


Lass Ride

by combatfaerie



Series: Lass Ride [1]
Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Bikers, Biker AU, Don’t copy to another site, F/M, Sexual Content, The Four Horsewomen, rollynch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-08
Updated: 2019-12-09
Packaged: 2020-11-02 00:31:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 37,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20560649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/combatfaerie/pseuds/combatfaerie
Summary: The Authority isn't just the ruling body of the WWE; they're also a biker gang, and Seth Rollins is their most promising prospect. When Hunter and Stephanie want to bring the Four Horsewomen back into the fold, they send Seth on their behalf. When he tracks down the Four Horsewomen and meets Becky Lynch, though, he discovers something he wants more than being Hunter's heir apparent.





	1. Chapter 1

Biker gangs used a lot of different businesses as fronts: bars, repair shops, tattoo parlors. Seth Rollins had never heard of them using a wrestling promotion as a cover, though, so when he got an offer from WWE while working on the independent circuit, he figured it was simply a job. When Hunter asked if he knew how to ride a motorcycle at their first official meeting, he thought it was just an icebreaker question, trying to find out what his potential new hire liked to do outside the ring. Little did Seth know that waiting for him in the parking lot was a shiny new Harley-Davidson. "Factory issue," Hunter had said, almost apologetically. "No one gets a custom one until they've proven themselves."

Seth later learned that most members of The Authority didn't get their custom bike for at least two or three years. He got his closer to the year mark, right around his birthday. Randy Orton, widely regarded to be Hunter's successor, wasn't impressed and was notably absent from the party, but Seth didn't care. He had accomplished more in a year than some wrestlers had in half a decade, and he'd busted his ass to do it. He'd taken his bumps; he'd had tough losses and sold the hell out of insulting gimmicks. He had done everything Hunter and Stephanie had asked of him, so why shouldn't he be rewarded?

So when Hunter and Stephanie called him into their office the next day, Seth assumed it was to see what he thought of his new bike, custom-painted with his logo and colours. He definitely didn't expect to see the iconic poster of D-Generation X invading WCW with the tank, normally hanging behind Hunter's desk, propped up against the wall. In its place was an equally large photo of four women, all glaring at the camera and holding up the four fingers of their right hands like a gang sign. The blonde might have had the most impressive physique and the purple-haired one had the most unique look, but it was the intense redhead that held his attention. "New hires?" he asked as he took his seat.

"More like old regrets," Stephanie answered. "Thanks for coming in, Seth. There's coffee on the sideboard if you want. Late night?"

Hunter smirked as he put his feet up on the desk. "Or should we say _early morning_?"

Seth answered with a smirk of his own, letting his bosses draw their own conclusions. If they thought he was out getting drunk and banging whatever girl caught his eye, it didn't bother him. After he'd taken his new bike home, he spent most of the night playing video games. "A bit of this, a bit of that," he said vaguely. "You know how it is. So . . . old regrets? That sounds like a story." He leaned back in his chair and waited for one of his bosses to start explaining. They were great—almost like a second set of parents—but they craved attention almost as much as their wrestlers did. Seth was certain that he had skyrocketed in The Authority so quickly in large part because he knew how to play off of—or into—Hunter and Stephanie's egos.

"You know Ric." Hunter pointed to another poster on the wall, this one of him, Ric Flair, Randy Orton, and Batista. Of the original Evolution faction, only two members remained in the organization: Batista had left and Ric Flair's health was flagging. "You know he's been having a rough time of it. The doctors . . . well, they aren't hopeful."

Given all the questionable things Ric had done in his life, Seth figured it was a miracle he made it to age 70. He tried to look appropriately solemn, though. "They've said that before, haven't they? And he always pulls through?"

Stephanie gave a small shrug. "We don't know all the details, but from what the doctors are telling us, even if he makes it through this latest bout, he'll never be the same again. So he asked us to do him a favour."

Hunter pointed up at the picture of the women, gesturing at the tall blonde. "That's his daughter, Charlotte. Also known as _The Queen_. Genetic goldmine. Ridiculously talented, and the crazy thing? She never even planned on wrestling; she mostly got into it to honour her brother. She and Ric had a falling out about—"

"About a lot of things." Stephanie waved her hand vaguely. "It doesn't really matter. But Ric's worried that this is really the end, and he wants to make amends . . . you know, just in case."

A father-daughter reunion didn't seem that difficult to arrange. "She's not answering his calls, I take it?" Seth asked. They wouldn't be bringing it up if they had tried the obvious, but he felt like he ought to say something.

"She hasn't spoken to Ric—or us—since . . . well, since before you joined us," Stephanie replied. It explained why Seth didn't recognize them, at least; they were before his time. "And the Four Horsewomen are tight. Like sisters. Charlotte told them she wanted to leave, and they all left together. It practically buried our women's division."

"Steph and I have both tried: phone, email, social media, through mutual friends. Nothing." Hunter shook his head and let out a long breath. "We also tried to contact any of the other Four."

Seth nodded slowly. "Still nothing?"

"Still nothing." Hunter straightened up and planted his elbows on his desk. For the headquarters of a biker gang, the office was classically pristine. There were no pin-up calendars or biker leathers to be seen; any visitors to the WWE offices would think it was any huge multi-national corporation. "Listen, this isn't just out of the goodness of our hearts. We know Ric's been an ass. We get why Charlotte cut ties with him. We're not in the business of mending families here."

Frowning, Seth thought back to something Stephanie had said. "You want the Four back to help bolster the women's division too. Giving Ric his final wish is just a convenient way in."

If Seth was concerned that his reasoning was callous, he needn't have worried. Stephanie beamed at him like he was a prized pupil. "Exactly. Would it be nice for Ric and Charlotte to reconcile? Sure." She didn't sound particularly invested either way. "But if we could sway the Four to come back to WWE, that would be a huge coup. So far they haven't signed with anyone else," she added, "so we're hoping they're open to returning."

"They've been wrestling off and on in smaller promotions, ones that are willing to meet whatever their demands happen to be that weekend," Hunter explained. "Most of the indies are too happy to cash in on the Horsewomen's star power to complain about terms."

Suddenly the custom bike was starting to look less and less like a reward for a job well done and more like a tool for a job to come. "So how are you going to get them to come back if you can't even get in touch with them?" He had his suspicions, but there were times Hunter and Stephanie rewarded cleverness and times when they preferred deference; this felt like the latter.

"We aren't," Stephanie smiled. "_You_ are. You're close to their ages; you'll feel less overbearing to them—more like an equal." She pointed at the one with purple hair. "Sasha Banks. Also known as _The Boss_." Stephanie paused to crinkle her nose in distaste. "Youngest of the Four. Mouthy, but she can back it up. Ruthless in the best of ways _and_ the worst. She doesn't trust my father's lingering legacy. She thinks we're going to devolve back to the days of bra-and-panty matches. You might be able to sway her, but it's doubtful."

Clearing his throat, Hunter gestured to the woman with a side ponytail, arm slung around Sasha's shoulders. "Bayley. Also known as _The Hugger_." When Seth's eyebrows rose, Hunter just shrugged. "Don't ask me. It works for her, and kids love it. Heart of gold and all that. Second youngest, and smarter than most people give her credit for. She'll go along with whatever the other women decide, most likely. Targeting her would be a waste of time."

_Targeting?_ Seth squirmed a bit in his chair. He doubted Hunter or Stephanie were talking about violence; they would contract an outsider for that so nothing could be traced back to them. Besides, if they wanted the Four Horsewomen back in the fold, hurting them wouldn't be the way to go about it. "Wouldn't it just be easier to go for Charlotte?" he asked.

Stephanie shook her head. "She's too stubborn. She won't do it for Ric, and she probably wouldn't even do it for herself. For one of the Horsewomen, though?" She shrugged and sipped at her coffee. "Becky Lynch is her best friend." Turning in her chair, she pointed up at the redhead, the one that Seth's gaze kept returning to no matter who Hunter or Stephanie had been discussing. While Charlotte, Bayley, and Sasha all seemed to be posing for the camera, something in Becky's gaze was closed off. She was there, but it was all for her sisters, not the photographer. "Also known as _The Lasskicker_." Stephanie winced a bit when she said it. "She likes puns. She's the wild card of the Four. Started training at age 15, but she was injured badly when she was 19 and she stopped wrestling for about six years."

Now that Becky was the focus of the conversation, Seth stared at her openly. She didn't look like the type of woman to walk away from anything if she had a sliver of hope. "But she came back."

Hunter nodded, lips curving in the small smile that most of the wrestlers called _the proud papa_. "Yeah. She's not the strongest or most athletic by her own admission, but she's full of fire. Once she decided to come back, she worked her ass off. She loves this business like nothing else." The pride in Hunter's expression became predatory in the blink of an eye. "And that's why she's the one to aim for."

Seth sat back, regarding the four women as a whole. It wasn't fair to read too much into body language; it was just one photo, after all, one of many they would have posed for after an event. "From what you've said," he began slowly, "she doesn't sound like 'weak link' material to me."

"Not at all," Hunter agreed. "Quite the opposite. If anything, she's the bridge. She's Charlotte's best friend. She used to tag with Sasha. She and Bayley are close. If you can turn Becky, the others will come too. Bayley's the one who will follow everyone, but Becky's the one anyone will follow."

Stephanie slid a padded envelope across the desk. "We managed to get their indie schedule for the next two months. Obviously subject to change," she added with a shrug, "but it should be fairly reliable. The smaller promotions can't afford to flake out too often. There's also a burner phone for you to use and a credit card. We're willing to make some concessions to the Four, and we've included details so you can negotiate on our behalf."

A burner phone and a credit card? It sounded like they wanted to be able to disavow him if need be. Seth grabbed the envelope and looked inside. "Dossiers?" he asked. It wasn't something he thought he would have to deal with as a wrestler. He caught glimpses of other photos as well, some in colour and others in black and white, some professional and others very obviously gleaned from social media.

"We don't know how much they've been following WWE since they've been gone," Hunter replied. "If we're lucky, you'll be an unknown to them. If not, you need to know as much as possible beforehand."

Seth pulled out the dossiers and flipped through them, trying not to linger over Becky's. "Just to be clear," he said, "what exactly do you want me to do?"

Stephanie just smiled. "Win them over to our side. Convince them we're better than my father. Befriend them. Blackmail them. Bribe them. Seduce them." Her expression didn't change a bit as she said the last. "We want to avoid violence, obviously, since we want to have a good working relationship with them going forward. Use whatever other means you feel comfortable with."

Before Seth could even think to ask what 'other means' there were, a sharp knock made them all look at the door, and mere seconds later, Randy Orton stepped inside. Seth had to fight not to roll his eyes. Randy was the only one who would be bold enough to both enter the Authority's office uninvited _and_ interrupt a private meeting without a hint of concern in his gaze. He walked around the place like he owned it, because in his mind, he did: he figured it was just a matter of time before Hunter and Stephanie handed the reins over to him. "Hunter, Steph." Randy sprawled in the other visitor's chair and essentially ignored Seth. "What's up?"

Seth felt his shoulders tighten. So Randy wasn't interrupting? That wasn't a good sign. He respected the man's skills, but Orton wasn't called 'The Viper' for nothing. Working with him wasn't high on Seth's list. He was almost tempted to call him out for missing his party, but he stopped himself. If Randy had been there, he would have found some way to make it all about himself anyway.

"Thanks for coming in, Randy. You know Ric wants to reconcile with Charlotte." Since Hunter didn't elaborate, Seth assumed they had already discussed the matter with Randy. "We're going to send Seth to try and win back the Four Horsewomen."

Randy leaned back in his chair and narrowed his eyes. "I told you I could do it."

"We know you can, Randy." Seth recognized the sickeningly sweet tone in Stephanie's voice, part coddling and part condescension. "But the girls know you. The fact that you're Legacy too won't help you win over Charlotte."

There was a weight to Stephanie's words—especially the simple _But the girls know you_—that made Seth wonder just what had happened before he arrived. It was frustrating, always feeling like the new kid in class or the youngest child in the family, always being reminded of the history he had no part of. "When do you want me back?" Seth asked, closing the envelope and starting to stand.

Hunter motioned for him to wait. "Hold up a minute, Seth. Randy, you'll be running point on this." He glanced over at Orton. "You good with that?"

Randy shrugged one shoulder as he looked over at Seth. "If that's what you want, sure. I can just do it myself, though."

"We want to see how your management skills are," Stephanie replied, ice creeping into her voice. She appreciated Randy's loyalty—and some other attributes, if the locker room rumours were true—but she always made sure everyone knew who the boss was. "This will be a test for both of you."

Seth could practically feel Randy bristling at being put in his place and he had to duck his head so Randy couldn't see his smirk. Hunter caught it, though, and gave Seth a quick look that he wasn't entirely sure how to interpret. "And Randy, you report to me. We want this done quick and clean, boys. We aren't looking to teach the girls a lesson or anything like that. We want everyone on good terms." Then he met Seth's gaze again. "Seth, you should start your research. The sooner you go, the better it is. Charlotte may have already heard through the rumour mill that we're trying to get the Four back. We don't want it to be too obvious."

"Hold up, hold up." Randy twisted in his chair as Seth rose and headed for the door. "If I'm running point, shouldn't I be telling him—"

The chill from Stephanie's voice turned her smile sharp. "It's our operation, Randy. You're just managing it. Remember when we sent you to deal with K—"

"Got it." Randy's reply was as stiff as the set of his shoulders. "Don't fuck this up, _Architect_. There's four of them; even you should be able to bang one of them. I'll give you two weeks before I check in."

Two weeks wasn't a long time, not when Seth had to factor in travelling between indie shows, but reporting to Randy was going to be annoying enough; he wasn't going to give Orton the satisfaction of taking over his assignment. "No need. I'll call you when I'm done." Then Seth focussed on Hunter and Stephanie so he wouldn't add an extra little jab. "Anything else for me?"

Stephanie shook her head. "No, that's all. Good luck, Seth. We know you'll make us proud."

Envelope in hand, Seth shut the office door behind him and forced himself to keep walking. The temptation to eavesdrop on his bosses and Randy was high, but the need to succeed was even stronger. Like hell he was going to call on Randy Orton of all people for help. How hard could it be to convince a daughter to come talk to her ailing father? After that, wooing the Four Horsewomen back into the WWE fold should be simple. After all, WWE was the biggest and best player in the game, the league all aspiring wrestlers aimed for. This was going to be more like a vacation than a job, and if it meant some play time with the redhead, so much the better.


	2. Chapter 2

Two weeks. It felt more like a noose than a time frame, but Seth still forced himself to spend a day on research and background checks. Hunter and Stephanie had given him the Four's wrestling schedule for the next two months, after all, which told him a few things. Ric couldn't be on death's door just yet if they thought it could take two months to bring the Four Horsewomen back to the WWE. They also clearly realized that it wasn't something he was likely to accomplish in a matter of days. That meant that if Randy's two-week deadline loomed and Seth wasn't making any progress, he could call Hunter or Stephanie to explain. No one had expressly said he couldn't contact them about the assignment, and if Randy complained that Seth went over his head, so be it. 

Charlotte was the obvious starting point, even though Seth knew she was the least likely to cave. Her social media was full of glamorous shots, showing off her impressive—and expensive—physique. He could have spent a day tracking her plastic surgeries alone, but the more he looked at her pictures, the more Seth had to question her motivation for the changes. Were all the surgeries purely cosmetic, or was she actually trying to look less like her father? It was probably a bit of both. Just as rumours swirled around Stephanie and Randy, so too were stories told about Charlotte and Hunter, but Seth couldn't find anything to back them up. On one of the dirt-sheet sites, Seth found a clip of an interviewer asking Charlotte about her father's health, and even he flinched at her answering glare.

No, there probably wasn't anything he could do to sway Charlotte.

Even though he knew Bayley was an almost equally lost cause, Seth looked over her file as well. If she was that dear to the other three Horsewomen, after all, maybe it would be worth it to try planting some seeds of doubt with her. He might not be able to turn her, but perhaps she could sway the others without even realizing it. It would be easy to underestimate Bayley because of her bright clothes and bouncy attitude, but her eyes told a different story. In every interview of hers he watched, Seth saw something flinty in her gaze, fiery and determined. Maybe if he could appeal to her sense of loyalty and family, she would tug on Charlotte's heartstrings in turn.

Sasha was more of a surprise than he expected. Even though she was the youngest of the Four, she was already married, and her ring persona seemed to be nothing like her regular life. Family clearly meant a lot to her as well, but Seth couldn't shake the feeling that she wasn't the way in. Maybe it was because she was more aligned with Bayley than with others.

Which left Becky.

Seth had purposefully left her file until the end, not even spreading her pictures out on the table beforehand like he had with the others' because he knew they would be a distraction. On paper, she and Charlotte were polar opposites; he found it hard to believe that they were best friends. Charlotte had so many advantages in her life, and it looked like Becky had fought for everything. Her list of previous jobs was all over the place: actor, stuntwoman, flight attendant, personal trainer. What had Hunter said about her? _She loves this business like nothing else._ To come back after six years, she would have to. And to return after all that time, to put in all that effort—surely she wanted nothing less than to be the best. Leaving WWE for an inconsistent indie schedule must have eaten her alive. Maybe that was his way in. 

Keeping Becky's photos on the table, Seth pulled out the list of concessions Hunter and Steph were willing to make. Most of them were obvious: private air travel, a tour bus, higher cuts of merchandise sales, guaranteed title shots with lengthy reigns. Some were specific: for Sasha, they promised to bring in Women's Tag Team titles and have her be an inaugural champion, while Bayley would be guaranteed to be the first Women's Grand Slam champion. Becky's specific concession was more creative control, something very few wrestlers ever got from The Authority; Hunter and Stephanie must have trusted her skills to offer her that.

He spent most of the afternoon bouncing from file to file, always returning to Becky's. She seemed to have something in common with each of the Four: brightly dyed hair and a fiercely competitive nature like Sasha, dogged determination and deep loyalty like Bayley, unshakeable stubbornness and an intense temper like Charlotte. _Maybe it would be better to talk to them as a group rather than divide and conquer_, Seth thought, nearly falling out of his chair when his phone alarm bleated its first scheduled-appointment warning. His last show for the next few weeks was tonight and he was going to be loosely written out; if he was successful with the Four Horsewomen, he could return at any time, but having him try to bring the Four back into the fold while also maintaining his wrestling schedule would have been too difficult.

A moment later, his phone rang, and Seth recognized the customized tone all too well. He only answered it as quickly as he did so he didn't have to hear the entirety of Randy's theme. "Why are you answering your phone?" Orton demanded. "Why aren't you here already? Hunter even scheduled our spot early in the show so you could get on the road earlier."

Swearing under his breath, Seth started sweeping up his notes into one large pile. He could separate all the photos and notes later. "I'm just leaving," he replied, cramming everything into a large envelope and tossing it into his bag. He would be returning to his hotel room before he headed out, but he didn't want to risk someone from Housekeeping seeing anything and sharing it on social media. As far as he was aware, no one in the WWE aside from Hunter, Steph, and Randy knew anything about his assignment, and The Authority probably wanted to keep it that way. Failure was easier to sweep under the rug if only a handful of people knew about it.

"Don't forget to stop by Creative." Then Randy hung up.

Rolling his eyes, Seth gathered his things and left his suite, heading for his bike. Since he would be heading out after his match, he was taking his factory-issue Harley, not the custom. As much as he loved his personalized one, it would identify him as an Authority member far too quickly. He doubted that the Four Horsewomen were completely clueless about what was going on in WWE during their absence, but he would take any small edge he could get.

When he arrived at the arena, Seth didn't even have to go to Creative; an intern came to him, shoving a script into his hands and scurrying away to fulfill some other task. He read as he walked to the locker room, going from frown to scowl as he reached his main segment. Being written out was one thing: it happened whenever a wrestler was injured or had personal matters to attend to. Being bested by Randy was another. The script had Seth declaring himself the number one contender for the heavyweight championship—and then Randy would come out to dispute that. One melee and a few chair shots later, Hunter would come out and suspend Randy 'indefinitely'—giving him the ability to monitor Seth more readily or appear at WWE shows as needed—and Seth was going to be listed as having suffered injuries.

Seth tried putting his all into his title-hunt declaration. It wasn't far from the truth, after all; once he brought the Four Horsewomen back into the fold—and he had no doubts that he would—surely part of his reward would be a title shot. He didn't have to fake his eye roll when Randy's music hit, though, and if he took a little more pleasure than he should have in fighting Randy, he could just say he was making sure it looked real.

Randy certainly had no qualms about going to town with his chair shots. Some of them came suspiciously close to Seth's head, but when Seth tried to signal him, Randy mimed a stomp on his hand. "Stay down," he hissed.

Hunter finally arrived, yanking the chair away and crouching by Seth's side. "You okay?" Hunter murmured, patting his shoulder. Seth winced at the pain, but nodded. He had planned to go after the Four on his bike, hoping to appeal to their nomadic nature, but he wasn't sure his back was going to be up to it; he might have to give up on his early start, rest up that night, and head out first thing in the morning. Then Hunter switched to his business voice as he stood and grabbed a microphone. "Orton, we've talked about this. . . ." 

With Hunter's hand under his elbow, Seth staggered to his feet. He wasn't as hurt as Hunter would try to imply, but Randy definitely hadn't skimped with the chair. Wincing, Seth let the medical staff help him hobble to the back, smirking as Hunter proclaimed Randy's suspension and the crowd roared its approval. The staff doctor gave him a quick once-over and declared him safe to ride his bike, but Seth knew better than to leave before consulting with Hunter. Thankfully when the boss arrived, Orton was nowhere in sight. "I could have done with a few less shots to the back," Seth said, rising from the chair outside Hunter's office. "It's going to be a long haul on the bike as it is."

"Sorry about that." Hunter clapped him gingerly on the shoulder. "I'll talk to Randy about that. Anyway, you good to go? Any questions, anything you need?" When Seth shook his head, he added, "I know Orton's running point, but don't let that get to you. You can still call me or Steph if you need to."

_If you need to._ It made Seth feel like a kid being told he _could_ call his parents, but they would really like to enjoy their date night in peace. "I'll be fine," he declared. "I might head out tomorrow morning instead of tonight, though. Rest up, go through the files again. . . ."

Hunter nodded. "Good plan. Probably safer too." Then he gave Seth an appraising look. "So what do you think? Who do you think is the way in?"

It was Becky. He knew it, but when it came to saying it, Seth hesitated. She wasn't the way in because she was weak; she wasn't weak at all. It was because she was driven and hungry. "I agree with you," he answered slowly. "I think Becky's the best bet. She wants to succeed. She wants championships, and she's not going to get that being part-time in the indies. And she's the closest to Charlotte, so if I can convince Becky. . . ." 

"Good. We're on the same page. But Seth?" Within the span of the conversation, Hunter's smile had gone from corporate cool to camaraderie and now locker-room cocky. "No scandals, okay? Sex is fine if she's into it, but be smart. We don't want to get the Four back only to have one of them out on pregnancy leave for a year, you know?"

"Sure. No worries." Seth hadn't been in the habit of discussing his sex life with anyone in The Authority and he wasn't about to start now. "Can I take off now, or do you still need me?"

Hunter shook his head. "Go. Probably better anyway. Fewer fans outside to see you take off, so we'll be able to play up the injury angle more. Good luck."

"Thanks." After showering quickly, Seth got dressed in plain street clothes and headed out on his bike, hoping his helmet was enough of a disguise. He had a lot of work to do, and he didn't want a tail, fan or otherwise. Once he got back to the hotel, he would run a hot bath to soak in and go over Becky's file once or twice more. Just to be thorough.


	3. Chapter 3

Seth had been so focused on learning everything he could about the Four Horsewomen that he forgot about one very important thing: who he was. As The Authority's rising star, he was always on the marquee; the main event was his second home. In short, he was highly recognizable. He wasn't going to be able to sneak into an indie promotion's event without being noticed, and he doubted Hunter and Stephanie wanted to be tagged in hundreds of Instagram posts featuring blurry Seth Rollins pictures with captions like _Checking out the competition—or his options?_

But the Four Horsewomen were wrestlers at heart. Bayley, Becky, and Sasha had all fallen in love with the business at an early age, and even if Charlotte hadn't ever planned on competing, she had grown up around the ring. There was only so much he could learn from dossiers and pictures; even old footage had its limits, because their time away from WWE would have changed them. Sneaking into the event was going to be difficult, but Seth didn't see many other options. He needed to see them in action now to figure out how to go about convincing them to come back.

Coloured contacts were easy enough, turning his dark brown eyes to a forest green. He didn't want to dye his hair, though; he had only just managed to grow out the blonde streak he had agreed to as part of his original heel gimmick. In the end, he settled for putting his hair in a high bun and wearing a toque, even though he would probably overheat. Most of his wardrobe was black or grey, so Seth took a quick shopping detour and bought some plain white t-shirts and standard blue jeans. Combined with the toque, the ensemble made him look like a clean-cut hipster—not a description most people would associate with Seth Freakin' Rollins. If anyone looked at his face long enough, they might recognize him, but he hoped the subtle disguise would do the trick.

Of all the problems Seth figured he might encounter, getting tickets wasn't one of them. It was only an indie event, after all. Sure, the appearance of the Four Horsewomen was a draw, but when he arrived at the small arena, the parking lot was so packed that he had to park at the very end. _Not great for making a quick getaway_, Seth thought as he stepped out of his rental car. His first Authority bike was waiting back at his hotel; he figured it might still be too recognizable, even just out on the street. He ducked into the ticket-buying line just before a group of twenty-something women came up, to his surprise; the indie crowd was usually male. At first he thought they might have recognized him, but they were chatting amongst themselves, buzzing about the event. "I can't believe I finally get to see Charlotte wrestle in person!" one gushed. "I was so bummed when she left WWE because I hadn't seen her live. Do you think they'll stick around to do signings?"

"Dunno. They usually wrestle and head out," another replied. "Which sucks, because I totally want Becky to sign my jacket. I heard they like going to Ten Count when they're in town, so we could try there. . . ."

"I've heard they like their privacy," a third woman said. "I mean, they aren't bitchy about it, especially if it's kids, but if they're in a pub, that's their own time, you know? Leave them be."

As the line shuffled forward, Seth took out his phone and looked up _Ten Count_. As he suspected, it was a local bar that catered to wrestling and MMA fans, hosting specials on event nights. There was a hotel in the same complex, and he bet that's where the Four Horsewomen were probably staying; it was in a good enough area of town, but also close to the outskirts so they could get back on the highway easily. When he looked up again, the ticket seller was glaring at him. "Sorry, man. Ticket for one?"

The seller snorted and looked at his computer screen. "You're lucky. There aren't any seats left together. . . ."

The girls behind Seth overheard that and groaned. "What? No!" Seth thought it sounded like the one who wanted Becky to sign her jacket. "I told you guys we should have bought tickets in advance, but _no_. You all insisted it wouldn't be packed and we'd be fine. . . ."

Seth leaned over the counter and took a quick look. The seller wasn't kidding. Only single seats were left, and not many at that. He pointed at one that he knew from general experience would be close to the locker room exits. "That one, please." The sight lines wouldn't be the best, but he had to consider the bigger picture.

The seller just shrugged. "This ain't no WWE show, you know. No big-ass TVs to rely on when you can't see past the guy in front of you."

"I'll be fine." Seth paid for the ticket in cash, even though Stephanie and Hunter had given him a credit card to use. The right person would still be able to trace it back to them, and he knew they wouldn't want anything linking them back to any of the indie events. "Thanks." With the girls behind him still complaining, Seth took his ticket and headed inside.

It was like his childhood had been rebooted. The scents of stale popcorn and beer and nacho cheese sauce made the air thick; at least the arena had gone smoke-free, or it would have been impossible to breathe on the modest concourse level. It reminded him of every house show he had gone to as a kid, not caring that he was seeing the mid-card talent while the big stars travelled on to the next televised event. Seth made his way through the crowds lined up to buy low-quality merchandise. This particular promotion wasn't the biggest, but it had a knack for attracting and retaining strong talent, and there were always rumours swirling that they were close to making a deal for television coverage; online clips of their matches often went viral.

As he walked down the steps to his row, Seth kept worrying about being spotted, but most of the fans were far too enthralled with the upcoming card to care about anyone on their side of the barriers. With twenty minutes to go, some local hopefuls were wrestling in the ring, and the crowd was quiet enough that screams from their supporters—probably girlfriends and siblings—rang out loud and clear. When the lights finally dimmed and the announcer stepped into the ring, Seth found himself almost enchanted. It was the type of wrestling he'd first loved, after all; what transpired on television—or even more magical, the pay-per-views—seemed unattainable at the time, but this close-knit combat had always captivated him.

To his surprise, almost all of the matches were good. He recognized a few of the guys from failed WWE tryouts or clips fellow WWE wrestlers had shown him of their early indie matches. When a tag team called The Shield was announced, the crowd erupted, the person to Seth's left nearly upending his beer. He turned to the entrance aisle—no ramp on this budget—but saw nothing. He assumed it was a fake-out until everyone in his neighbouring rows frantically tried to get their phones out, and then he saw two wrestlers striding down the stairs, dressed like a SWAT team. Both looked dangerous: the blond in front was smaller but looked almost feral, while the taller guy was calmer but exuded strength. Seth watched as eagerly as the rest of the fans as the two entered the ring and proceeded to decimate their opponents. Once the match was over, The Shield left the same way they came, and though Seth was sure he was imagining it, it felt like the big man's gaze had snagged on him for just a second. _He probably watches WWE,_ Seth reasoned. Why wouldn’t he? Most wrestlers dreamed of making it there. It wasn't like the guy had a camera; if he told anyone he saw Seth at the event, there wouldn't be any evidence.

As the next match started, Seth tried looking up The Shield on his phone, but the signal in the arena was too weak. He was almost about to go back up to the concourse to see if they sold programs when a familiar riff caught his ear. Ric Flair's music, more or less, but electrified and oozing arrogance. Just as the crowd had erupted for the The Shield, now they were copying the hand gesture Seth had seen the women do in the large poster in Hunter's office. Amazingly, there wasn't a _woo_ to be heard.

The other three women followed close behind; their entrance themes were probably entangled in WWE copyrights, Seth assumed. Once they reached the ring, Charlotte took the microphone first, and it was like listening to a female version of Ric Flair: arrogant and entitled, but rather monotone. Sasha grabbed it next, daring any local talent to challenge them. It was when Becky started to talk that the crowd really got rowdy. With her thick Irish accent, Seth couldn't make out everything she said, but a lot of the elements of trash talk were universal. What started as a challenge for outside competition quickly turned to a squabble between the Four, resulting in a tag team match: Charlotte and Becky versus Sasha and Bayley.

_They're good,_ Seth marveled, leaning forward in his seat. Maybe _good_ was too simple or too mild, but they didn't need fancy accolades. They were all passionate wrestlers, each with their own strengths, and the chemistry between them all was obvious and organic. For the first time in months, Seth realized he was actually invested in a tag match. When Becky finally made Sasha tap out, the crowd exploded again, Seth right along with them. Hunter was definitely right: Becky might not have been the most athletic—that would definitely be Charlotte—or agile, but her love for the business made her a beacon. He'd had a hard time taking his eyes off her even when she was standing on the apron waiting to be tagged in.

Seth watched two more matches before heading for the concourse. If the Four Horsewomen were heading to Ten Count, they would probably shower and change first, and he wanted to give them time to settle in before he arrived; their behaviour would be more natural that way. Like the arena and the matches, Ten Count turned out to be a pleasant surprise. As bars went, it was clean and well lit, and if fans frequented it on event nights, they were either respectful of the wrestlers' privacy or they simply hadn't arrived yet.

He was heading to the bar to order a drink before starting his search when a snide voice caught his ear. "Oh, look! It's the Little Prince!" He turned to see Sasha grinning sharply, leaning back in her chair to look him over. "I didn't realize you had a beard. Steph's thighs are usually in the way."

A general laugh rose in the bar, but no one turned to look at Seth—except, of course, for Becky, who was carrying two beers back to the table where Sasha was. The comment had stunned him so much he almost dropped his beer when the bartender nudged it into his hand. He knew the rumours about Randy and Stephanie and had just learned about the ones concerning Charlotte and Hunter; he hadn't realized there were ones about him. It certainly explained some of the looks he got from other wrestlers backstage. He had never done anything more than hug Stephanie, but apparently some people thought otherwise. "Wrong guy," he replied, trying to shift his accent just enough that he would sound different if someone happened to be recording the exchange on their phone. "My girl's named Cat." _Good thing I didn't ditch the toque,_ he thought as he tried to find a spot where he could observe without being in Sasha's scathing line of sight.

"Sure, princeling. Whatever you say," Sasha retorted, letting her chair drop back to the floor as Becky set their drinks down. Seth couldn't tell what Becky said, but Sasha just shook her head and shrugged, probably telling her that nothing had happened.

Once he was certain no one was watching him, Seth gazed around the bar. At the moment it seemed to be an equal mix of wrestlers and other athletes, judging from the general build of most of the men. Bayley was over at the pool table, totally trouncing a guy who must have been twice her size. Seth imagined people took one look at her kid-friendly gimmick and instantly underestimated her; he certainly had. Charlotte was close by, holding a pool cue but seemingly more interested in flirting with one of the guys he recognized from the first main card match. For the most part, Sasha and Becky stayed at their table, quietly but firmly rejecting any offers of a drink or a dance. Becky's gaze flicked over to him every so often and Seth made a note to check his dossier again. He could have sworn her eyes were brown, but the bar lighting almost made them look green. . . .

Or at least it did when Seth could see Becky, or the lights for that matter. It was hard to see much of anything around the tall man standing in front of him, glaring as steadily as a mountain. The man beside him, constantly in motion, was shorter but no less threatening. "The Shield, right?" Seth began, starting to rise out of his seat. 

The tall man planted a hand on his shoulder and forced him back down. "That's right. And we know who you are too." Leaning in, he lowered his voice and snarled, "_Seth Rollins_. WWE's not welcome here. Dean and I left for a reason, and so did the Four."

"And speaking of the Four," Dean added, planting both hands on the table, "you're not welcome around them either. Understood?"

Seth leaned back in his chair. He might not have been as big as Dean's friend, but he could hold his own in a fight. The publicity wouldn’t be worth it, though; if the bar owner called the cops, then there would be a record of Seth Rollins in an altercation with former WWE wrestlers, and the dirt sheets would be spewing ridiculous bullshit for weeks. "I'm just having a drink at a bar, boys. Besides, looks to me as if they're grown-ass women who can make their own decisions. I don't think they'd take too kindly to you two playing overprotective big brothers."

The big man loomed closer, making Seth back his chair up against the wall. "Last call, Rollins. Leave now. I'll even cover your tab. But if I catch you around the Four again, Hunter's gonna have to go shopping for another prince, and those are getting harder to find these days."

Dean nodded emphatically. "I'd listen to Roman if I were you. Mind you, if you're _here_, he's probably looking already." With a sharp smile that echoed Sasha's, he added, "And Stephanie's never been one to not have a full court at her beck and call."

Their confrontation, though quiet, was starting to attract attention, so Seth nodded and stood slowly. "Don't see what the big deal is," he remarked, grabbing his jacket and shrugging it on. "Not like I can't go to any event I want."

Roman's mouth twitched at one corner. "Oh, you can _go_. Free country and all that. If we spot you, though, you might not be in any condition to leave." Then he laughed. "Hurry back home to your nice shiny throne. It's probably even still warm."

The bartender leaned over the bar and motioned to someone sitting in the corner. "Is there a problem here, gentlemen?"

Dean shook his head. "We're peachy keen, jelly bean. Aren't we, friend?" Then he sidled closer to Seth. "You'll notice we haven't said your name loud enough for anyone else to hear. Sasha didn't either. That can change real quick. . . . "

"I'm leaving, I'm leaving." Part of Seth felt like taking money out of his wallet and tossing it at Roman, making some snide remark about how much he made, but both members of The Shield looked like they would be quite happy to toss him through the nearest wall. With one last glimpse back towards the Four Horsewomen—mostly blocked by Roman's broad shoulders—Seth headed towards the door. He hadn't learned a lot that night, but at least he had been able to see the Four Horsewomen in action.

He also knew to check event listings to see if The Shield were also going to be there. Those days would require a little more planning—and maybe some back-up.


	4. Chapter 4

"Hey, lads." Becky ducked her way around a cluster of people heading up to the bar, holding two beer glasses close to her chest and hoping she wouldn't spill. When she finally reached the table where Roman and Dean were sitting, she let out a long breath and set the glasses down. "Courtesy of Sasha."

Dean eyed the glass with suspicion. "Banks has crappy taste in beer."

Becky just shook her head and pulled an extra chair over to their table so she could sit. "She paid. I picked."

"Oh, well, in that case. . . ." When Roman gave him a look, Dean shrugged. "The Irish know their beer, man, and I happily partake of their wisdom."

Roman grabbed his glass, half-turned in his seat, and raised it in a salute to Sasha, who nodded and grinned in reply. "For getting rid of the trash, I take it?"

"I guess. I didn't follow everything that went down. Who was that Lyall Prince guy anyway?" The man who had caused so much fuss had left a while ago, but she was no closer to knowing what the big deal was. When Becky had asked about him, Sasha just shook her head and said he wasn't worth the time it would take to explain.

"Lyall Prince?" Roman's brow furrowed in confusion. "What . . . oh. Right. Sasha called him 'Little Prince'." He gave a good chuckle at that, leaning back in his seat. "You really did quit WWE cold turkey when the Four left, didn't you?"

Becky nodded. Wrestling had been her dream since she was fifteen, and leaving it for six years had grated on her soul. She loved her Four Horsewomen sisters with all her heart and was happy to jump ship with them, but that didn't mean she wanted to be constantly reminded of the possibilities she had left behind either. "Not really. I mean, I still talk with Renee," she said, glancing over at Dean, "and a few of the other girls, but other than that . . . I mean, the point was to leave, right?"

Dean patted his jacket pocket and nodded to himself. "Irish has a point, you know."

Roman shook his head in affectionate exasperation. The Shield had left WWE not long before the Four Horsewomen, and somehow he had become both a father figure and a big brother to all of them. "His name's Seth Rollins. He's Hunter and Steph's newest princeling, though I doubt Randy Orton is happy about that. They're grooming Seth to be their new title hog." He took his phone out of his jacket, tapped the screen a few times, and handed it to Becky. "His current nickname is The Architect, but he'll probably have seven more by the time they've used him up."

Becky looked at the picture, hoping her expression gave nothing away. His disguise in the bar hadn't been the most inventive, but his real eyes—dark woodsy brown—were magnetic. She didn't want to gawk and have Roman get suspicious, though, so she quickly handed the phone back. "So what did he want?"

"Don't know," Dean said with a shrug, adjusting his jacket on the back of the chair. "Don't want to know. Like you said, the point was to leave, right?"

Becky and Roman shared a look. That was easy enough for her to say, but Dean was dating Renee Young, WWE's first female commentator. The scrutiny had been bad enough when Dean was still in the WWE, but since he had left, Renee had receiving a lot of barbed comments. "What's with your jacket?" Becky asked, nudging her chair closer to Dean's. "You keep fussing with it."

"Nothing." Dean's reply wasn't terse, but it was too quick to be innocent either. When he went to adjust his jacket again, Becky leaned across and plunged her hand into the closest pocket before he could stop her. "Hey, Irish, just because you brought me a beer—"

She had been all set to fire off some sarcastic retort, but the small velvet-covered box in her hand made Becky pause. "You're going to propose to her? Congratulations!" Smiling, she popped open the box and let out a low whistle. "That's fucking gorgeous, Dean. She'll love it."

"He's been carrying that baby around for _weeks_ now," Roman confided. "I kept worrying that he was going to lose it."

Dean's natural expression normally fell somewhere between 'bored' and 'tired', but at that moment he looked like he was in agony. "I want to propose to her," he mumbled, downing half his beer in one go. Silently, Roman pushed his glass over to Dean's side of the table. "But if they're giving her grief about me already, I don't want to make it worse for her. I totally get why she doesn't want to leave. Being the first woman on commentary . . . that's huge. She might not get that anywhere else. Me, I can wrestle anywhere."

"That sucks. You still get to see her on her weekends, right?" Becky asked, handing the box back to him. "I know that's not nearly enough, but. . . ."

Dean wrapped both hands around the box as if it were keeping him warm. "Yeah, but that's about it. They keep scheduling her for bullshit interviews and voiceovers and whatever, and always late in the day so she can never travel far after."

Roman reached over and gripped Dean's shoulder. "Say the word, brother, and we can go back."

"Can't. Won't." Dean suppressed a shudder and finished the rest of his beer before grabbing Roman's. "They were making me hate wrestling, man. They were making me dread the one thing I've loved for most of my life. I'm done with them."

Becky dropped her gaze, feeling horrible. All she had wanted to do was deliver the beers and ask what was so special about the mystery guy, and now Dean was miserable. "Sorry, lads. I'll leave you to it." Gesturing at Roman and then his erstwhile glass, now in Dean's hand, she added, "You want another one? On me, of course."

Roman shook his head and rose to his feet, holding his arms out for a hug. "Nah, I'm good, little sis." Looking over her head, he rested his chin in her hair. "Looks like your girls are about to head out. What time are you taking off tomorrow?"

"Depends. Is Charlotte leaving alone?" Becky turned in Roman's arms just enough to see Sasha, Bayley, and Charlotte heading their way. "Probably around ten, I guess. They'll want breakfast."

"We'll meet up with you then and we can ride together to the next show." Stepping back, Roman looked at the calendar on his phone. "After that, we've got two shows apart," he added with a frown. "Listen, Becks, I don't know what Rollins is up to, but promise me you'll let us know if he causes any more trouble?"

Becky still wasn't clear on the trouble Rollins supposedly started that night, but she nodded anyway. Sometimes it was just easier to placate Roman's protective nature than to fight it. "Sure. But don't forget: we can take care of ourselves."

Roman grinned. "Don't I know it. Have a good night, ladies," he added as the other three stopped at the table. Then he gestured at the moping Dean. "I'll make sure this lump gets back to the hotel safely tonight and we can all meet up in the morning, yeah?"

Sasha leaned in for a hug. "Sure thing. Have a good night, guys."

Bayley gave Dean a quick squish before he could protest, and then hugged Roman. "You're playing pool with me tomorrow night, you coward. Don't think I didn't notice you avoiding me."

Roman held up his hands in surrender. "I'm no match for you and I know it."

While Roman and Bayley were bantering back and forth, Becky leaned down to hug Dean. "It's a beautiful ring, and she's going to love it. Don't wait too long," she murmured by to his ear.

Dean wrapped an arm around her head and ruffled her hair. "Thanks, Irish."

When all the goodbyes were done, Becky trailed after her fellow Four Horsewomen, waving at the bartender as the door closed behind her. All four of their bikes were parked in a cluster, and it was easy to see whose was whose. Charlotte's bike was the peacock of the group, all custom colours and gleaming chrome, repainted at least once a year. Sasha's was slick and streamline, with her revamped logo emblazoned across the fuel tank. Bayley had chosen a bright electric blue for hers, and her customized exhaust pipes resembled the inflatable Bayley Buddies she had to abandon when they had left the WWE. 

The most notable thing about Becky's bike, she always thought, was her saddlebags, covered in Celtic knot work. They certainly always caught her eye, so she noticed that something was sticking out of one right away. Normally the crowd at Ten Count was respectful of the wrestlers and their space, which included their rides; every once in a while, someone tucked a small fan note in a saddle bag, so that's what she assumed it was. The paper was weird, though, and she took her time unfolding it. Each opened portion revealed more of a diagram until she realized it was a page ripped out of a car manual. 

"What's that, Becks?" Charlotte called over as she put on her helmet.

Becky was about to reply that it was just trash, but then she saw something out of place along the margin, one of the few places on the page that was blank. _Great match tonight,_ it read, followed by a sharp _S_.

S for Seth? Becky crammed the note into her pocket before she could overthink it. "Just some trash that got caught in the flap," she replied, straddling her bike. "I mustn't have had the flap done up all the way." She quickly put on her helmet and started her bike so none of her friends could prod her about it. As soon as they got on the open road, the night at the bar would be soon forgotten, washed away by the familiar rumbles of their bikes.

That would mean she might be able to look up more about this Seth Rollins without her Four Horsewomen sisters noticing. If no one wanted to tell her anything, that usually meant there was something worth knowing.


	5. Chapter 5

Finding wrestling events where The Shield wouldn't be appearing along with The Four Horsewomen was hard enough. Finding one when Sasha also wouldn't be there was almost impossible, at least within Randy's arbitrary two-week window. Between research and travelling, Seth had already almost used up a week and Randy was getting antsy, sending text messages each night demanding status updates.

Then one of the notifications Seth had set up on his phone had finally paid off, pinging when it was announced that Sasha Banks was unable to appear at her next two scheduled shows. The Shield would be at the second of those, but the first now offered Seth a chance to approach Becky without worrying about Sasha, Roman, or Dean trying to sway her—or discredit him. He was late getting to the event, but at least he had a disguise planned in advance this time. At the ticket booth, a large X was drawn in red marker over Sasha's picture and, to Seth's surprise, Charlotte's as well. "Don't think that makes the tickets cheaper," the ticket seller drawled when he saw Seth eyeing the sign. "No discounts."

Seth shrugged as he handed the clerk his money. The only tickets left were in a first-come style section, so there was no point in asking for advice. After he got his ticket, he bought a beer from the cleanest-looking concession stand and then went to pick a seat. The venue was smaller than anything he had wrestled in within the past few years, and it felt dark and cramped, almost as claustrophobic as a deep cave. The areas closest to the wrestlers' entrance were packed, so he would have to pick a seat up in the nosebleeds. Before he did, though, he pressed close to the barrier and waved over one of the roadies. "Hey, buddy, you guys need an extra hand tearing stuff down tonight? I used to wrestle with my brother on the indies and we could roll up the mats like nothing."

The guy gave him an assessing look. "We can't pay much," he said flatly. "Normally the wrestlers just pitch in and buy the locals a round or two at the bar afterwards."

That implied the wrestlers would be there at the bar. Perfect. Seth wouldn't even have to dig around for information, and he'd get the bonus of a small workout. All this time on the road and not wrestling was starting to take its toll. "Fine by me. I just miss the atmosphere, you know?" It was going to be risky; changing his accent wasn't Seth's strong suit, so he would have to make sure he didn't talk much. Once he got to the bar, he could change up his disguise a bit and hopefully talk to Becky one on one.

"I know the feeling." The guy pulled a business card out of his pocket and handed it to Seth. "Come back here after the last match. If you don't see me, just give this to another tech and tell them I okayed you for the night."

"Thanks, man." Seth pocketed the card and headed up into the nosebleeds just as the lights started to dim. A few minutes later, a local singer came out and did a passable rendition of the national anthem, and then the first match began. The caliber of wrestling definitely wasn't as high as the first event he had attended, but there were a few wrestlers with a lot of promise; he wouldn't be surprised to see them in WWE in a few years.

And then there was Becky.

He had assumed she would be in a match with Bayley in some form, but instead they were both in separate singles matches. Becky's opponent looked half terrified, half enraptured, and Becky had to guide her through much of the match, but it ended up being one of the highlights of the card. After Becky went backstage, Seth started slowly making his way to the barrier closest to the tech area. He could hear the next match starting, but if he could get a head start in the back, so much the better.

There was a guy winding up an extension cord near the bottom of the stage and Seth flashed the business card at him earlier. "You the guy Dan was talking to?" the man called out.

Seth gave the card a quick glance. He hadn't even read it when the man had handed it to him. "Yep. I can start helping wherever you need me."

The guy came over and pushed one of the barriers aside to let him in. "We won't need you till the show ends, but it's probably easier to get you back here beforehand anyway. We always get fans trying to sneak in." Then he gestured to a long corridor. "There's some chairs at the end. Wait there and Dan will find you."

"Thanks, man." Seth had wrestled in dozens of small arenas like these when he was younger, and the layouts rarely differed much. He followed the corridor for a while and, when he was sure no one was watching him, ducked into a side hallway that he figured should be the laundry shortcut to the locker rooms. This one had more turns than most, and as he was rounding a tight one, he almost tripped over someone's legs. "Sorry, man," he said automatically, barely stopping.

Then his eyes caught a flash of fiery orange as the person rose. "Seth Rollins." He had only really heard her voice in video clips, but in person it was even more lilting. As she stood, she pulled her headphones down around her neck and held his gaze. By his estimation, the locker rooms should be at the end of the corridor, so she must have changed right after her match and slipped away for some peace and quiet. "If you're looking for The Shield, they aren't here."

_So much for the disguise,_ Seth thought. It had worked fine enough in the crowd and with the road crew, so how had Becky seen through it so easily? "I'm not looking for them," he said simply. "How'd you recognize me so easily?"

Becky shrugged. "Roman and Dean said you were trouble, so I did some research."

A slow smile stretched Seth's lips. "I'm flattered."

"Not sure you should be." Becky tucked her phone in her jeans pocket and walked past him towards the locker rooms.

"Your match was great." Seth blurted it out and bit back a curse as she turned to chuckle. Even if his goal was simply to win her over to his side, he wasn't planning his shots well at all. 

"I know," she replied with a grin. "I was there." Then Becky kept on walking.

Seth caught up with her easily, keeping as much polite distance between them as the service corridor allowed. "Not tonight. Well, tonight was good too. I meant—"

"I got the note. I know what you meant." Becky slowed a bit then, as if unsure. "Unless that—"

"It was mine," Seth said quickly. She hadn't seemed unnerved by the note, so he would happily take credit for it. "I wanted to talk to you in the bar, but I didn't think your guard dogs would let me close enough."

Becky smiled a bit at that. "So you're saying Roman and Dean were right to warn me about you?" Then it was her turn to backtrack. "Us. They warned us."

He could have teased her about the slip, but he didn't want to lose what little ground he had gained. "There's nothing to be warned about," he insisted. "All I want to do is talk—" That wasn't entirely true, and Seth was trying to keep his gaze on her face, but even that wasn't helping. She had the jawline of a god and a steady, searing gaze that made Ric Flair's request seem like a distant memory.

"You're in WWE." Becky's voice went flinty as she turned on him again. "And with The Authority, no less. They never just want to talk."

_Maybe I should have waited until I was at the bar. . . ._ Not that Seth had expected Becky to be alone in an isolated corridor. From everything he had read and seen about her, she was one of the friendlier wrestlers in the locker room; he had assumed the local indie wrestlers would be peppering her with questions. "I'm not, I swear. I—"

"Coming through!" The rattle of cart wheels followed and Seth grabbed Becky's shoulder and pulled her into the nearest recessed doorway just as someone pushed a utility cart down the corridor, nearly scraping up against the walls. 

_All clear!_ echoed down the hall a few seconds later, but Seth's hand hadn't moved from Becky's shoulder and she was still sandwiched between him and the recessed door. 

Seth started to plead his case again. Becky moved to duck back into the corridor. Somehow all the motion and words tangled together, spiralling them into a kiss.

He remembered the first time he swam in an ocean, not a local rec center pool or even a lake. The heat of the sun poured over his shoulders and the instant he was totally submerged, he felt free. The water was all-encompassing and alive, cradling him and coaxing him at the same time, and he realized water was the only element with that power; a human couldn't be enveloped by fire or earth or even air for a long time without a lot of special equipment and precautions. With a simple deep lungful of air, though, you could give yourself to the water without needing to rely on anything but your own strength and force of will.

That's where the kiss took him then; it was elemental. He had figured if he was lucky enough to have the chance to kiss her, it would be angry and fiery and likely end up with him getting a slap. But this felt like burrowing under his favourite blanket in winter, curling up small, and shutting out the rest of the world. Her arms had found their way around his shoulders; his were wrapped around her waist, bringing their bodies together as she stood on tiptoe to help lessen the strain on his neck.

"Becks? You down here?" The voice sounded vaguely familiar to Seth, but he was too entrenched in the kiss to care. Becky moved away, however, gasping when Seth's next kiss landed on her neck.

"I . . . I have to go." She started to push at Seth's arms, but her fingers betrayed her, curling around his biceps instead. Her pupils eclipsed almost all the colour in her eyes, and she was breathing like she had just resurfaced from a marathon swim. 

Seth wasn't faring much better and he knew it; the difference was that he didn't care. He just wanted more. "Don't." When he pulled her back into the kiss, it was more like what he had envisioned it would be, hard and hungry and wild until Becky brought a knee up to his groin. She stopped just short of applying force, but the threat was clear, and he reluctantly slumped back against the doorway, letting her go. "Becky, please, listen—"

"I need to go." After taking a few deep breaths and making sure she still had her phone, Becky smoothed out her shirt and stepped into the corridor, shooting him a warning glare. "Hey, Bayley. Sorry. I was just listening to some music." Seth saw her tap her headphones as she started to walk away. "Ready to go?"

"Yeah. I want to call Sasha when we get to the hotel and drop our bags off before we go down to the bar." Then Bayley paused, and Seth wished he could peek around the corner without being seen. "You okay? You look a little dazed. Was it the stair shot? I thought that was a bit close."

"No, I'm fine. I think I almost dozed off, though," Becky replied, distance making her voice softer, "so I might not stay up to watch you wallop all the locals at the pool table. Next time, I promise."

Was that a hint to Seth? It sounded like the bar they were going to was attached to their hotel. He wanted to sneak closer to hear more, but he could hear activity at the other end of the hallway. If he was going to help tear down the ring, he'd have to go soon; if he was going to skip out, then he'd have to figure out where Becky and Bayley were headed. Once the women's voices were far enough away, Seth stepped out of the recessed doorway and walked back the way he came. Maybe if he put in the work now—and hopefully kept his identity a secret from the other roadies—he'd get to play later.


	6. Chapter 6

_I'm going to run out of disguises pretty soon,_ Seth thought as he followed the other temporary workers into the bar. There had been a few times when he was sure some of the roadies had recognized him and were going to say something, but then they would just shake their heads, sure they were mistaken. Part of him quietly hoped for a _Hey, anyone tell you that you look like Seth Rollins?_ moment just so he could reply with something like _Lucky me, huh, looking like a fucking asshole._ Since he had been following Becky, he had noticed that in some ways, the women had it easier—some of them wore so much make-up out to the ring that their bare faces were almost unrecognizable—but on the downside, there were a lot of entitled fans who tried to grope them or steal a kiss.

Considering he had almost done exactly that back at the arena with Becky, Seth supposed he was in no place to judge. He was just clinging to the hope that she meant for him to overhear her plans for the night when she told them to Bayley.

"Crew sits here." Wayne, who seemed to be the second-in-command, pointed to a long table marked with lighter burns, knife gouges, and sticky rings of beer. "And most of you know the drill, but for the newbies: don't hassle the wrestlers. This is their downtime. I catch any of you causing shit and you're never working on my crew again. And I'll spread the word too."

The crew, all men, murmured various levels of agreement as they took their seats. Most of them seemed to either be friends or perhaps related, so Seth didn't have to worry overly much about making small talk. After downing one obligatory beer, Seth got up and went to the bathroom, mostly because it gave him an excuse to walk past the pool table. Just like the night before, Bayley was demolishing her competition. Becky was doing her best to be interested, but her gaze looked a million miles away and she kept touching her mouth. _Thinking of the kiss?_ It was probably too much to hope for, but once upon a time, Seth would have said the same thing about a WWE contract.

When Seth came back, Becky was still there, but she was getting more fidgety by the second, twisting back and forth on her stool the way he did on the spinning chairs in McDonald's when he was young and his mom had taken him out for dinner as a treat. He positioned himself in a crowd that was watching a game of darts, but Seth kept listening for a particular Irish lilt. The darts match went on long enough that he almost felt like sticking one of the darts in his eye, but then he finally heard the magic words. "Bayley? Love you, hugger, but I think I'm done for the night. I'm heading up, all right?"

Bayley paused before lining up her next shot. "Okay, Becks. What time do you want to head out tomorrow?"

Becky didn't look like she wanted to answer in front of a crowd and he didn't blame her. "I'll text you later, okay? Probably our usual." Then she finished her beer, took the glass back to the bar, and left the bartender what must have been a healthy tip, judging from the woman's smile, before heading across into the hotel lobby.

Seth took that as his cue to leave. The rest of the crew was either busy drinking or watching the football game on the wall-mounted television, so he didn't have to worry about saying goodbyes or looking suspicious; they probably wouldn't even remember him tomorrow. The hotel was small enough that people seemed to treat it like almost a motel, parking in front of their windows. At the moment, most of the rooms were dark, so rather than look like he was stalking Becky in the lobby, he was going to try figuring out which room was hers by seeing which light came on next. If that didn't pan out, he could always go to the front desk and say that a redhead had dropped something on her way in and then hope that the desk clerk would call her down to retrieve it.

It wasn't hard to find Becky's bike. Without Charlotte, Sasha, or The Shield present, only Becky and Bayley were riding their bikes, and they were parked side by side along the fence. "Of course they would have rooms side by side," he muttered. Maybe it was worse: if they were sharing a room, he wouldn’t be able convince Becky to let him in at all. As he gazed up, Seth took out his phone and pretended to make a call so his loitering didn't attract attention. Just as his imagination was starting to run out of dialogue for his fake conversation, lights finally bloomed along one balcony, and Seth ducked behind a camper van as Becky stepped out. 

Her first glance was towards the bikes, making sure they were okay. Then she seemed to look around a bit as if expecting someone. Seth grinned as he watched her through the van's grimy window. If she was looking for him, maybe this would be easier than he thought. Of course, knowing which balcony she was on only gave him a rough idea of which room she might be in, and he doubted that the desk clerk was just going to let him wander around without booking a room. "It's only the third floor, though," Seth mused as he watched her go back in. It didn't look that much taller than a Hell in a Cell cage.

Before he could second-guess himself, Seth grabbed the bottom of the balcony directly below Becky's and hauled himself up, hoping whoever had rented the room wasn't inside. There weren't many ways to explain away climbing up a hotel balcony. Once he was up, he steadied himself on the railing for a moment. A bunch of the guys in WWE mocked his CrossFit regime, but he doubted they would be able to scale a building without their arms starting to shake.

"One more," Seth told himself, grabbing the bottom of Becky's balcony and pulling himself up again. He tried to focus on the light beyond the glass doors, but a sudden shadow fell across him and almost made him lose his balance.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Becky peered over the railing at him, holding a lamp minus its shade in one hand ready to bludgeon. "If you fall, you could crack your skull open!"

"I'm not going to fall, though." Now that he wasn't moving, Seth started to feel the strain in his arms, but his attention was diverted by Becky's very bare legs. She must have been in the midst of changing, because she appeared to only be wearing a tank top that, infuriatingly enough, stretched to the top of her thighs. 

"But _what_ are you _doing?_" Becky insisted. She set the lamp back inside the room and leaned over the railing, reaching down. "Most stalkers will try to bribe the desk clerk first."

"If you think I'm a stalker," Seth replied, "why are you trying to help me up?" He grimaced as soon he said it. It was bad enough that she had brought up the possibility; he didn't have to give it any credence.

"Because it'll look suspicious if a WWE darling is found dead by splat outside my hotel room, maybe?" Becky braced her bare feet and waggled her fingers. "Come on. Either get up here or climb back down, but do something before you fall."

It was tempting to grab her hands, but Seth didn't want her to accidentally tumble over the railing. "I'm fine. Just step back and I'll. . . ." When Becky retreated to the door opening, Seth hoisted himself up and over the railing, brushing his hands off on his thighs. "Should probably wash my hands, though. I don't think these balconies have been cleaned in a while."

Becky shook her head, not in refusal but amazement. "You're crazy."

"I've been called worse." Seth raised his hands and waggled his fingers. "So can I borrow your bathroom, or is your roomie hogging the shower?" He didn't really expect her to reveal if she was sharing a suite with Bayley, but it couldn't hurt to try.

"Go for it." Becky opened the door wider to let him in and pointed towards the suite's small bathroom. "If you need a tetanus shot, though, you only have yourself to blame." She promptly shut the balcony door, locked it, and drew the curtains closed.

Seth glanced down at his palms as he nudged the bathroom door open. He had a few scratches and dirt smudges on his hands, but nothing horrible. He was quietly impressed by her organization, though. Becky couldn't have been in the room all that long, and she already had things set out for her morning routine: bottles of shampoo and conditioner and body wash were lined up on the shower floor, toothpaste and a toothbrush and floss were tucked in a travel cup by the faucet, and she had her own assortment of soaps on the counter. There was also, he noted with a certain amount of interest, a bra draped over the towel rack, at least half of the band wet—probably spot-washed—and left hanging to dry. Before she could accuse him of snooping, he quickly washed his hands and dried them on one of the hotel's towels.

When he stepped back in the main room, Seth meant to give it a quick once-over, but Becky shoved a cup of coffee at him. "I know they call you CrossFit Jesus and all," she said, "but that was stupid."

He tried not to dwell on the fact that she knew one of his less common nicknames. "I just wanted to talk," Seth replied, gratefully taking the cup. He hadn't seen her bring anything up with her, but then he spotted the small electric travel kettle on the desk, steam still billowing from its spout, and he had to smile. She was basically living on the road, travelling as light as possible, and yet she still found space to bring along a kettle so she could always be assured of coffee. "I told you that at the arena—"

"And I told you that I know you're with WWE," Becky replied, crossing her arms. He thought she would demand he turn around so she could put on clothes or pull a bathrobe on over her tank top, but she seemed quite fine as she was; she wasn't going to let any intruder make her feel uncomfortable. "And the Authority."

Seth leaned down over the coffee and inhaled. It wasn't elite gourmet coffee, but it definitely wasn't everyday instant either; it was clearly one of her indulgences on the road. "And if I weren't with the Authority?" He doubted he'd get an honest answer out of her, but he was curious. Hunter and Stephanie had given him incredible opportunities, but now he was starting to see that with those chances came limitations; every door the Authority opened for him closed one somewhere else.

Rolling her eyes, Becky walked over to the desk and poured herself a cup of coffee. There only seemed to be two cups in the set—probably due to limited baggage space—and he wondered who her regular coffee buddy was: Charlotte would be the obvious choice, but for some reason he thought it was more likely to be Sasha. "If you weren't with the Authority, we wouldn't be having this conversation right now."

"Oh?" Seth leaned against the wall by the bathroom door. "What would we be doing then?"

"We wouldn’t be talking at all." Becky clearly didn't catch the innuendo until Seth's eyebrows rose, and then her face flushed. She started to retreat to the bed to sit, but then she did a hard turn on her heels and went back to the desk. "Seriously, Rollins, what do you—?" She stopped herself again and swore. 

"What do I want?" It was a short sentence and in the small hotel room, furnished only with the bed and the desk, there was no way it couldn’t feel intimate. "Like I said, I want to talk."

"So you've said." Becky's fingers curled around her cup, but it didn't take long before she started to fidget and she set the cup down. "What do you want to talk _about?_"

Seth sauntered over, sitting in the desk's chair and looking up at her. She wasn't tall—maybe average height for a woman or a bit above—but there was something in her posture, her bearing, that made her seem like a sentinel. "Well, at first I wanted to talk to you about why you left WWE." People tended to remember the first thing you told them, Seth knew, so if he planted a few seeds of truth at the start, he thought Becky might not notice the lies that trailed behind. "I wanted to talk about how you got into wrestling—why you left, and why you came back."

Becky nodded slowly, tugging at the hem of her tank top until Seth's gaze landed on her hand. "_Wanted_. I didn't ask about past tense."

"You mean what do I want to talk about now?" Seth downed half the coffee for courage the way some of the bar patrons downstairs took shots, setting his cup by Becky's. He wanted to stand, to loom over her and see if her eyes had gone all dark again, but there was something alluring about the way she was looking down at him too. "Now I want to talk about that kiss." He reached forward, wrapped his hand around the fingers that were once again playing with the hem of her shirt, and pulled her closer. "I want to talk about what I have to do to get another one. Because call me crazy—you already have; I don't mind—but I don't think you kiss everyone like that."

Seth's legs were spread wide and he had pulled Becky just inside his knees; her free hand had reached for the desk to balance herself. It also put her fingers perilously close to two hot cups of coffee, but she didn't seem to be going on the defensive. "That kiss was a mistake." Becky's voice had taken on an edge, but her gaze was still soft, almost conflicted.

"Which one?" Seth's voice was low, almost a whisper, and he saw her muscles tense. "I want to make sure we're on the same page here. The first one or the second or the third?"

Becky's eyebrows dipped. "What third one?"

Seth let her hand go to move his around to her hip, bringing his other hand up to mirror it on the other side. "This one," he grinned, drawing her down to him. She wasn't quite in his lap, but the chair clearly wasn't meant to bear the weight of two adult humans, so he stood instead, hooking his arms around her thighs and pressing her against the wall.

If their first kiss had been like water and the second like fire, Seth supposed this one was earthy: raw and deep and real. It wasn't necessarily pretty, but then he thought of all the precious stones that were virtually unrecognizable as their polished selves when they had just been mined. The way Becky's arms were wrapped around his neck or how he was bearing her weight might not have been elegant, but it spoke to their hunger, the magnetism between them. Becky gasped against his mouth when one of his hands slid up her back, but he was careful to keep her shirt in place. Mostly.

Her head fell back against the wall, her eyelashes fluttering low. "I kind of need my mouth to answer that question."

"Think you already did." Seth let her slide to her feet slowly, keeping his hands on her hips. He tried to keep the next kiss slower, softer, but it quickly grew, dizzying as a whirlwind, and stopped when his fingers crept under the sides of her panties. "Good talk."

"Except I think someone else wants to join the conversation," Becky chuckled, gaze sliding down to his groin. Seth had to laugh too, though his was more strangled; skinny jeans did absolutely nothing to hide erections.

"Tease all you want. . . ." Seth slowly slid a hand down until it was just between her legs, making Becky squirm. "I'm not the only one." Then he lowered his mouth to her throat. "Do you want me to stop?"

Becky's breath wavered like heat rising off asphalt. "Well, you're so busy with The Authority. Your hands might have other places to be. . . ."

"Like here?" Seth moved his other hand up her shirt to squeeze her breast. "Good thing I have two then." He didn't move the hand between her legs, though; he wanted to know that Becky was sure. "Now see, if I were doing this for The Authority, I'd get you all hot and bothered and then leave you high and dry—or wet, as it were—and _begging_." He nuzzled just under her ear, his breathing just as ragged as hers. "But this is for me, and since you already know I'm a greedy, spoiled little princeling, I'm going to do what _I_ want." The pulse in her neck was hammering against his lips and it took every stitch of control not to tear her panties off and take her to the bed. Hunter, Stephanie, Ric, Randy: they were all disembodied names now, useless syllables taking up space in his head that he wanted to fill with the sound of her gasps and the feel of her wetness on his fingers.

"This one," Becky said, voice more breath than words as she tapped the hand on her breast, "is good, but this one. . . ." She shut her eyes as she let her hand drift down and for a heady moment, Seth thought he would have happily watched her get herself off, even though he felt like he was going to explode. "This one," she continued, curving her fingers around the hand between her legs, "needs to go back a bit and—"

"Show me." The delighted glow in Becky's eyes made his agonizing erection almost bearable, and it was hard to tear his gaze away from them, but he wanted to watch as she spread her legs more and tugged her panties to the side, taking a deep breath before taking his hand and positioning it where she wanted. Then she had her arms around his shoulders, kissing him hungrily while she moved against his hand. She could have come on her own that way, but Seth couldn't help but want to touch her more, so he adjusted his hand just enough that he could rub his thumb against her. "Not here?"

"Both. Both are good." If she hadn't been clutching his shoulders, Becky would have melted to the floor when she came a few minutes later, pressing her mouth against Seth's neck to help muffle her scream.

"I guess I should go now," Seth teased, sliding his wet hand down along her thigh, taking her panties along with it, "since you're done and all. . . ."

Becky stumbled as she tried to step out of her panties, but Seth's hand on her leg quickly steadied her. "Get on the bed." It was a purr and a growl all at once, and Seth swore he was never wearing skinny jeans again. She pushed at his chest with one hand and peeled off her tank top with the other.

Seth pulled his t-shirt over his head and let it drop to the floor, too fixated on Becky to care where it fell. "Irish, I don't think you're going to be able to sit up long enough to ride—"

But she just shoved him again until he was flat on his back on the bed, arms flopped back, and she pinned them with her knees. "I don't have condoms, so you don't get that kind of ride tonight." She leaned back a bit and, as she held his gaze, undid his jeans without looking and curled her fingers around him. 

_Tonight_. That hinted at the opportunity for _more_ and as much as Seth would have loved to fuck her thoroughly, he understood her hesitation; the fact that she could even think at all was impressive. "I like this kind of ride just fine," Seth promised, pulling her forward enough that he could lick her.

She moved with his mouth even more eagerly than against his hand, fingers twitching around his cock, and then she let out a high, trilling sound that made her clamp her free hand to her mouth. "Sorry. Sorry. Please don't stop. I—"

As much as Seth needed to control her hips, he freed one hand to take hers away from her mouth. "Don't. Please."

Becky's eyes clenched shut and he thought she was going to let go of his cock entirely, but if anything her grip improved as her own orgasm started to blossom. "I—don't mean . . . to laugh. I don't, I swear. I just—" But another ecstatic giggle broke through as her back arched. "Oh god, I can't. . . ."

What fool had ever told her to be quiet? Her free hand was still twitching in his, trying to get back to her mouth, and he guessed some former lover had taken offence, thinking she was laughing at him. _I'd listen to that laugh all day and all night,_ he thought even as he tried to keep his own groans in check; it was so much better, so much more real, than the fake porn-like moans that so many girls made. He was going to come any second and all he could think about was how exquisite she looked when she was about to climax. "Fuck." It was the first word that came to his lips after he came, Becky following not long after. He tried to nip at the inside of her thighs, but she collapsed on the bed beside him.

It took her a moment to twist around enough that she was on her side and facing him, and then she leaned over his chest, licking up the long trail of white. "You might want to start wearing something other than skinny jeans," she teased, reaching down to stroke his balls gently. "Then you might not get as . . . pent-up." 

Seth pulled her up against him, groaning when her breasts brushed his chest. Her wrestling attire didn't cover as much as Natalya's or Tamina's, but now he was grateful she didn't wear glorified bikinis like some of the women did; if she had, his hours of watching her match archives would have ended in so much jerking off he'd probably have blisters. "Can you . . . can you just—" He grabbed both her wrists to stop her from distracting him. "I know we're not . . . but can you—" He let go of her wrists only to pull her legs in close to his side. "I just want to know what it would look like."

The afterglow glint in Becky's eyes took on a wicked shimmer as she moved her mouth from his lips to his throat and his shoulders and back again. "If I were topping you?" she finished. For all the teasing in her gaze, her flushed cheeks and the way she bit into her bottom lip made her look bashful. Combined with her nakedness, it was damn near irresistible. 

"Riding," Seth corrected gently, cupping her ass with his hands and scooting her forward enough that there was no chance she would accidentally rub against his cock. 

"Topping." Becky repeated the word with a sharp grin as she rose from his chest, curling her fingers around his shoulders. She was just starting to rock against him when there was a knock at the door. 

"Becks?" Bayley's voice carried clearly.

"What? I was just going to take a shower." She tried to rise off Seth, but he held onto her hips covetously. Maybe he wouldn't get ridden properly tonight, but the image of it—even just feeling how wet she got pretending—was a good way to end the night.

"Wanna leave around eight tomorrow?" If Bayley was disappointed that Becky didn't open the door, she didn't sound it. "Breakfast at seven?"

Becky glanced up at the suite's wall clock. 1:16 a.m. "Sounds good. Sweet dreams, hugger."

Bayley tapped the door twice; Seth guessed it was some sort of code between the Horsewomen. "You too, Irish."

Then Becky almost wilted against him. "Shit. You . . . you should probably go."

Part of Seth—most of him, if he were honest—had been hoping she would ask him to stay the night, or at least until she had to leave; sneaking out of her window in the morning, with so much traffic in the parking lot, would have been a challenge, but a worthwhile one. But the night he'd had was still definitely worth it. "Yeah. I might wait a few minutes, though. You know, so Bayley doesn't see me pulling a Romeo and climbing out your window."

Becky glanced back at the clock. "Well, if you have a few minutes to spare. . . ." She crawled down between his legs, pulling his jeans over his hips. He'd actually been planning to ask if he could use her shower—she had told Bayley she was going in, after all, so if the sound carried, there was a built-in alibi—but he quickly realized that Becky's method of cleaning up was going to be much more fun.


	7. Chapter 7

She didn't look any different. She had looked at herself in the mirror when she had a quick, late shower after Seth clambered down from her window, and then again before she finally tried to sleep. She had looked in the morning before she went down to meet Bayley just to make sure, but there was nothing worth commenting on. _People have flings all the time,_ Becky told herself as she pulled her hair into a low ponytail to accommodate her helmet. _They don't magically turn green after or anything._ She couldn't stop checking, though, worrying that her internal chaos was somehow going to manifest. If she had a quick, tidy fib to deploy, she would be able to deflect any curiosity, but she was finding it hard to lie to herself about Seth.

She'd basically had sex with a total stranger last night and she enjoyed it. And she couldn't even say she had learned her lesson, because if Seth came to her hotel again, she would have a very hard time not doing the same all over again. Or more.

Even though he hadn't been inside her, even though she would have insisted on condoms, what they _had_ done wasn't without risk. Becky kept thinking back to Roman's insistence that she tell him if Seth started hanging around. There had been plenty of sketchy guys working for WWE before she left and Roman hadn't warned her about any of them; what made Seth so worthy of worry? _Surely someone like Randy would be worse,_ Becky thought as she finished packing up her bag, doing her best not to look around the room. Each time she did, she just saw Seth there with her and what they had done against the wall, on the bed, over the desk. _But I already know to be wary of Randy. Roman's just looking out for me, for us._ Ever since the Four Horsewomen had left WWE, The Shield had been like friends and brothers all rolled into one, making the rigours of the indies easier to bear.

So what did Seth want? She still wasn't sure. Sex was obviously up there, but she couldn't imagine that he was lacking for admirers. Becky had kept a close eye on him while he had been in her room and he hadn't made any moves to grab her phone or snoop through her bag. Most of the time, his gaze had been fixed firmly on her. And she hadn't minded that one bit. Even now, away from the shackles of WWE, she felt like she was in Charlotte's shadow, even in Sasha's, but last night, Seth had been focussed solely on her.

Bayley was early for breakfast, of course; she always was. Becky watched her friend's face for any sign of suspicion or worry, but Bayley was her normal bubbly self, gushing about how good the French toast was. "Sasha and Char still both need some time," she reported, "but it'll be nice to join up with the boys again."

Becky swallowed a gulp of too-hot coffee to mask her curse. "What? When'd you hear that?"

Bayley gave her an odd look. "Roman texted last night. Didn't you check your phone after you got out of the shower? I thought you were joined at the hip with it."

She hadn't thought about her phone at all that morning except to note that Seth hadn't tried to take it. "Shit. Sorry, no. I completely forgot."

Leaning across the small table, Bayley put a wrist to her friend's forehead and acted like a mother testing her child's temperature. "Are you feeling okay? Because the Becky I know checks for messages every minute or so. . . ."

_The Becky you know also doesn't hook up with random wrestlers who climb balconies to get to her hotel room._ Becky expected to feel a surge of shame at that, but none came. She had enjoyed herself, it was consensual, and no one was hurt; what was there to be ashamed about? "I was just tired," she said, not having to fake a yawn. Her jaw protested a bit, and she knew that had nothing to do with lack of sleep.

"Aww. I'm sorry, Becks." Bayley gave her arm a friendly shake. "You know I'm just teasing, right?" Then she unlocked her phone and showed Becky the messages. "Roman's being a sweetheart and booking rooms for us ahead of time, since they're closer to the next venue. You cool with separate rooms again, or did you want to save some money and double up?"

Becky shook her head. "Separate's fine." Normally she didn't mind sharing with Bayley, but she was in the midst of some online gaming competition and was often keeping odd hours. _Plus if Seth figures out the next venue. . . ._ She cursed herself for the thought, and then for realizing she could have told him where she was heading next just to see if he'd follow. "Any word from Sasha or Char?"

Bayley shook her head as she grabbed her phone and stuck it in her inner jacket pocket. "Nope, not yet. I think Sasha wants a bit of a break, to be honest." Dropping her voice, she leaned forward. "Promise you won't tell anyone? Not even Charlotte?"

Becky nodded automatically. The Four Horsewomen were closer than sisters and they shared everything, but that didn't mean they shared everything with everyone at the same time; sometimes they needed space from each other too. "Of course. Is everything okay? Does Sasha need any help?"

"She doesn't want to use the word _depression_ because she hasn't really been diagnosed or anything, but . . . yeah." Bayley's gaze dropped to her mostly cleared plate, which reminded Becky that she should be eating as she was listening. "I think she's a bit burned out on wrestling. I should have seen it sooner. I'm her best friend, and—"

"Hey." Becky reached over with both hands and squeezed Bayley's fingers. "Don’t blame yourself. It's not your fault. It's no one's fault. You're a great friend, and now that you know, Sasha's got the best ally she could possibly ask for."

Bayley shot her a wavering smile. "Thanks, Becks. I just feel dumb for not spotting the signs. I mean, I remember some things she said that sounded out of character but . . . everyone has bad days, right? Bad weeks. I just figured she was fed up with Vince and WWE, not . . . all of it."

"I won't mention anything to her," Becky promised. "But if there's anything I can do to help, just let me know." She finished her small breakfast in record time—she didn't like eating a lot if she was going to be on the road—and gulped down an extra cup of coffee to help compensate for the sleep Seth made her lose. "But when you talk to her, if you can, ask her to tell me or if it's okay for you to tell me. I want to help. I've . . . I've been there, in my own way, back when I was injured and had to quit. I'm not saying it's the same, but. . . ."

"I know." True to her nickname, Bayley came over and hugged her. "Come on. Let's get out there and ride. That'll cheer us up."

_Irish, I don't think you're going to be able to sit up long enough to ride—_ Seth's teasing words echoed through Becky's head, and she ducked her head as she grabbed her phone so Bayley couldn't see her blush. If any of the others had been there, they probably would have seen through her in a second. With just Bayley, though, she might be able to enjoy the companionship of the drive. She was going to have a hard time hearing _ride_ and associating it with her bike for a while. "Let's hit the road," she agreed. If anything could clear her head, speed and fresh air would.


	8. Chapter 8

When Bayley had said that Roman was arranging hotel rooms for them, Becky hadn't realized the boys were meeting them at the hotel. But there Roman and Dean were, sitting in the hotel lobby with another familiar face. "Renee!" Becky dropped her bag on the spot and hurried over before Bayley could hug her for ten minutes straight. "It's so good to see you!"

"Good to see you too, girl! I miss you!" Renee freed up one arm and motioned to Bayley. "Bring it in, girl. I got two arms for a reason." The announcer hugged them both close, kissing their cheeks in rapid succession. "The locker room, backstage, even announcing: none of it is the same without you." There was no hint of an impending guilt trip, though; she understood why Dean had needed to leave and gave the girls the same respect and space she gave him.

"We miss you too." Becky squeezed her again before moving on to Dean. "Hey, Ambrose."

"Hey, Irish." Dean stood and gave Becky a quick squeeze before holding her at arm's length. "You're not having an affair with Renee, are you? You got the same glowy eyes I get when I'm with her."

Renee doubled over laughing. "Dean! I've been with you all day! How could I possibly have been having an affair with Becky?"

Dean simply shrugged. "I don't know. Women and their mysteries, you know? You have your ways." He patted Becky's shoulder before tugging on Bayley's arm. "Only kidding, Irish. I'm happy you're happy, whyever you're happy."

Roman's eyebrows furrowed. "_Whyever_? See, Ambrose, this is why you need to have more conversations: so you don't forget _real words_." For a moment, Becky worried that Roman was going to give her eyes an extra-long glance, but he simply swept her up into a hug. "Hey, Irish. All good? No trouble on the road or with Rollins or anything?"

He'd said it so casually that Becky almost hadn't realized he had mentioned Seth. "All good," she assured him, and it technically wasn't a lie. He'd asked if she had trouble with Rollins and she hadn't. She'd had kisses and some of the best orgasms of her life, but no trouble.

"We got some good tidings too, fa la la la la," Dean said. Now that Bayley had finally finished hugging Renee and had moved on to Roman, Dean had pulled his girlfriend down into his lap. "The event's cancelled tonight. Flooding damage to the venue."

Becky nodded slowly. "Sucks for the fans, though." _And I could have had Seth stay longer,_ she thought, though that was a dangerous road to follow. With how far they had gone in such a relatively short time, the lack of condoms might have gone from a major issue to a minor quibble.

"You didn't let me get to the good stuff," Dean replied. "Well, obviously, my girl's here." Renee beamed on cue. "But the hotel's letting us set up an impromptu signing in a conference room for ticket holders, so the fans will at least get something. And we still get paid by the promoter, so everybody wins."

"Except me," Renee sighed, "because I have to go back to work tomorrow and hype up some ridiculous feud between Rollins and Orton that was totally thrown together to cover up the fact that Rollins screwed up somehow." She shook her head and toyed with Dean's jacket collar. "I thought The Authority might have buyer's remorse, but they seem bent on making Rollins their next guy."

Becky stepped away from Roman and tried to act casual. None of them had much love for The Authority, not even Renee, and it wasn't even like she could try to sway them by saying she'd had deep, meaningful conversations with Seth and that he was actually a good guy. She'd had some deep, meaningful interactions with his tongue, but not the kind that Roman or the others would approve of. "You could always jump ship and join us," she said. Dean would never say it because he didn't want Renee to jeopardize her career, but Becky could say it for him. He shot her a look that was half indignant and half grateful. 

Renee ruffled Dean's hair and smiled. "Trust me, gang, I would in a heartbeat, but it's easier for you to find temporary gigs in the different promotions. If they don't have a TV deal, they don't need an announcer or interviewer, which means they don't need me."

"Well, _I_ need you. Does that count?" Dean stood suddenly, cradling Renee against his chest, and started walking towards the elevators. "The signing's at three, right?" he asked, speaking calmly even as Renee laughed and protested in his arms. Becky saw her blissful grin, though, and noted that Renee was hardly trying to break free. "Then I'll be back down . . . around three. Or sometime around then. You know, time and space, ever changing." As he kissed his girlfriend, he used her dangling foot to press the elevator call button.

Roman shook his head, but his smile had the pure affection of an indulgent big brother. "I swear you two must be related, Irish. No filter on either of you."

Becky raised her hands as a show of innocence. "Excuse you, name one time I've ever carried a girl to my hotel room in full view of all my friends."

"Well, when you put it that way—hey. _In full view of my all my friends?_" Roman narrowed his eyes. "Does that mean you've done it when no one was watching, then?"

"That's not what we're discussing right now," Becky deflected with a grin. "So what are we doing until three?"

They ended up spending most of the time chatting about Roman's wife and daughter and then helped the crew who were setting up the signing area. The line grew quicker than any of them expected, so they started early, texting Dean to let him know; Becky didn't even have a chance to get her room key and stow her bag, so she tucked it under the banquet table. When Dean arrived, he had the same glowy eyes he had accused Becky of earlier, and she gave him a playful nudge as he sat beside her. "You should get a girlfriend," he whispered in her ear. "They're awesome."

"I bet Renee would say the same thing about her boyfriend," Becky replied, patting his shoulder. Like her, he had been underestimated and underutilized, and she knew how much a compliment could mean.

Dean shook his head, but he was still glowing with happiness. "Nah, he's a dick. That's why she hooks up with me on the weekends, you know."

While the fans were understandably upset about the cancelled event, most were thrilled about the impromptu signing, even if they didn't have much with them to get personalized. If it had been a WWE event, there would be stacks of glossy photos on hand, but they had to settle for hotel stationery. Becky jazzed it up as best she could with little doodles, and nearly every fan with a phone asked for photos. What the hotel lost in entrance fees, they more than made up for in good will and free publicity—plus they would be reimbursed for all the stationery the wrestlers were signing. "I'm going to have the hotel's slogan stuck in my head for the rest of my life now," Bayley groaned as the signing finally ended in time for a late dinner. "It's going to be dancing in front of my eyes tonight while I'm trying to sleep."

Roman flexed his fingers to loosen them up. "It was worth it to see those kids, though. They'll never forget today, you know? And if one of them grows up to be a wrestler, this is going to be one of those moments they mention in an interview."

"Yeah, yeah, okay, coach." Dean stood and rolled his neck. "I'm going to spend some more quality time with my girlfriend, thanks."

"Dude, at least let her have dinner first," Roman replied with a laugh.

"That's what room service is for." Aiming a salute at the three of them, Dean headed for the door. "We might head out for a ride later. Anyone who wants to join is welcome."

Bayley shot Becky a weighted look. "I'm going to call it an early night, I think. I'll grab something quick to eat," she added before Roman could switch from big brother to chiding father, "but I miss Sasha and I want to call her, and with the time zone differences. . . ."

"I get that. Tell her hi from me." Roman gave her a hug before turning to Becky. "What about you, Irish?"

Becky didn't think she'd be able to bear up under Roman's scrutiny for long, so she feigned a big stretch. "I didn't get much sleep last night," she replied, "so I might have a quick bite and then have a nap. I should probably call Charlotte too."

Roman nodded. "Sounds good. I want to call Galina to make sure everything's going okay. When JoJo doesn't get to see me on TV, she worries." He rubbed at his beard, a sure sign of stress. "But I'll probably go for a ride tonight too. I'll let you know when I go. Your key and Bayley's are at the front desk."

"Thanks, Ro." Becky gave him another hug and headed to the front desk first, bag in tow. Her sense of time was all distorted and she wasn't quite hungry yet, but she wouldn't mind some quiet. The desk clerk recognized her right away—distinctive red hair usually helped—and she tossed her key from hand to hand, not paying much attention to where she was going until she heard some clear their throat. 

"Looks like I missed the signing." Becky was automatically going to respond with a generic apology, maybe offer to take a photo with the fan, but then the voice clicked into place and her breath caught when she saw Seth standing in a side hallway.

Panic mode set in fast, jolting her like lightning. "You can't be here," she hissed. "Roman and Dean are here! Renee is here!" He seemed to pale a bit at that, and she didn't know if that lent Roman's conspiracy theory any weight or not. If Seth was doing something for The Authority, maybe Renee wasn't supposed to know about it.

"Then come with me." Seth stepped close enough that his knee bumped her bag. 

"I have a room," Becky protested, shutting her eyes when she realized what she said. "I mean, I have my bag with me and—"

"I like the first answer better," Seth grinned.

Becky's gaze dropped instinctively. "I can see that." He was wearing skinny jeans again, not that she was going to complain. "I can also see that it doesn't look like you have anything with you except your phone and some keys."

Seth's eyes widened a bit in surprise. Maybe most of the girls he hooked up with weren't quite so bold after the fact. "Well, I don't know about you, but I had a good time last night without anything else. . . ." 

The wicked glint in his eyes had Becky's mind scrambling and before she realized what she was doing, she had grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the elevator. "You can't let them see you," she said under her breath, turning him around so he faced the wall. "Roman and Dean warned me about you, and even Renee was saying stuff—"

"Like what?" Seth asked, nearly tripping as Becky shoved him in the elevator as soon as the doors opened. 

Glancing down at her room key, she figured out she needed the fourth floor and jabbed the button hard enough that her knuckle almost popped. "Enough to make me think you probably wouldn't get a warm welcome."

Seth leaned back against the corner and smirked. "That's all right. I had one yesterday. Well, more like three—"

Becky shut her eyes and swore under her breath. This was a bad idea. Roman probably booked rooms that were close to each other; he usually did in case anyone got hurt and needed to be checked in on or if there were any suspicious stalker-type fans following them. Safety in numbers was great when she needed it, but now she had to try to hide Seth from four people in a small area. As soon as the elevator stopped on the right floor, she stepped off first, looking from side to side. The hallway was mercifully empty and judging from her room number, her suite wouldn't be far. "Roman's no joke, you know," she warned. She wasn't sure how much Seth knew about The Shield, but neither Roman nor Dean were to be underestimated. "He's protective and—"

"I can't stop thinking about having you in the palm of my hand last night," Seth whispered beside her ear, almost making her fumble her room key to the floor. He ended up taking it from her and opening the door because she kept missing the keyhole completely. When he grabbed her bag, she winced slightly—her hand had been sweating—but he merely set it down just inside the door and waited for her to step inside. Once she did, he pressed her back against the door and locked it as he kissed her.

_Why can't I have this?_ It wasn't the first time she had thought it since last night. Why couldn't she just have sex that was fun and fulfilling and maybe just a bit dangerous? Sure, Seth was with WWE, but the company couldn't care less about her, so what did that matter? Dean and Renee were probably having sex right now. Bayley would be finishing up eating and then calling Sasha; Roman was likely talking to his wife. Everyone was connecting with someone else—so why couldn't she? "I could have had you somewhere else if you'd brought co—"

"I like a challenge." They kissed their way across the room, long and slow, and his hands moved to her waist first. "And seem to remember you liking walls. . . ."

He had her pressed up against the small section of wall between the balcony door and the waist-high window. "Beds are nice too," she murmured, but she made no attempt to move. The solidity against her back was reassuring, given that her knees felt like melted wax as Seth knelt and tugged off her boots before working on her jeans.

"We'll get there." After Seth unzipped her jeans, he pulled them and her panties down all at once, kissing the inside of her thighs as she stepped free.

_Something old, something new. . . ._ The wedding rhyme trickled through Becky's mind as Seth started to tease her with his tongue. They had started against a wall the night before, but with his hand rather than his mouth. She didn't know him much better today than she did yesterday, but she couldn't muster up any sense of fear or caution like she knew she should. There was just the delicious heat between her legs and his hands on her hips and people yelling her name—

_Wait._ Becky vaguely heard her phone ping too, and she wrenched herself away from Seth to grab it from her bag. There was a text from Renee waiting: _Look out your window._ Almost forgetting that she was naked from the waist down, Becky went to the window and pulled the curtains aside just a fraction; Seth was still on his knees, gazing up at her with a look in his eyes that made her want to bypass a lot of her common sense, so she didn't have to worry about anyone seeing him.

Down in the parking lot, Roman and Dean were already on their motorcycles, Renee sitting behind her boyfriend. "Galina's busy," Roman called up when Becky opened the window, "so we're going for our ride now. Want to come?"

Becky glanced down to see Seth grinning wickedly, positioning himself between her legs again and gently nipping at her inner thighs. "Yes, you do. . . ."

"Shhh," she hissed down at him. There was no way Seth's voice would have carried to the parking lot, not with his mouth pressed to her thigh—higher now, dangerously high—but she felt like everything was written across her face. "Not right now," she called back. "I want to get something to eat first." 

"Tomorrow morning, then!" Renee's cheery voice was half promise, half threat. "Coffee run!"

"You got it!' Becky clenched the window sill as Seth started to suck on her clit in earnest, struggling to keep a straight face as she waved goodbye to her departing friends. Once the tell-tale roar of their bikes had faded away, she yanked the curtains shut and slumped back against the window. "God, that was close."

Seth chuckled against her, making her shiver. "Not as close as you are, I bet."

Becky let a shudder of pleasure make her slump a bit. Almost being discovered, having Seth between her legs while she was talking to her friends: it all left her skin buzzing and aching to be touched. "They'll be back in about an hour," she warned, making a guess based on time zones Renee's limited time with them, "and I can't ignore them forever. . . ."

"Then I better get to work," Seth replied, "and prove I'm the better ride."


	9. Chapter 9

Seth couldn't remember what he had been thinking when he'd asked Becky to hang out with him the next day. Technically he had said _go for a ride_, which earned him a raised eyebrow; he hadn't meant to imply sex, but if that could be included, he certainly wasn't going to complain. The word _picnic_ might have come up as well, much to his chagrin; who went on picnics nowdays unless they had kids? There were a thousand reasons why she should have said no—she didn't trust him, she didn't feel comfortable, she actually had a boyfriend—but the answer was so simple it almost made Seth laugh: she was scheduled to appear at an event. If he had bothered to take two seconds to look at the schedule he had made for his pursuit, he would have realized that, but the more time he spent around Becky, the less space he had in his head for anything else.

When he then asked about the day after, he got a sheepish smile and a light chuckle. "I'm a vegetarian," she had said simply. "I warn you now."

Which was how he found himself researching vegetarian food options for the better part of the morning and then going to a local farmer's market with a list in one hand and a reusable bag in the other. It was probably the last place anyone would recognize him, so he didn't worry overly much about a disguise. One stall owner teased him about trying to impress a girl when he hesitated over the desserts. "Are you trying to set a scene?" she asked with a wink. "Proposing, by any chance?"

Seth nearly choked on his breath. "_No_. We haven't even had sex yet!" 

He hadn't meant to say it—and it wasn't strictly true either—but it made the stall owner laugh and clap her hands with glee. "Oh, that's so sweet. Rare these days." She then proceeded to offer him a dessert for free, saying he had made her day. Seth was just hoping he hadn't been recognized and that no one had decided to film the exchange because it was funny. It wouldn't be the worst clip of him online, but he didn't need any more bad publicity.

Arranging all of the picnic items to fit in a motorcycle-friendly bag had been a challenge, but he had managed, and then the only thing left to do was to wait for Becky to text him. It was a risk for her to meet him away from a hotel, he knew; his risk was in giving her his number, knowing that Roman or Dean might possibly see it and try to check who it belonged to. Three beeps sounded in quick succession and Seth practically leapt to get his phone. _Just leaving,_ read the first message. The second was _Still meeting by the old dairy?_ The third came a few moments later, as if she were unsure: _If not, no worries._

_On my way,_ Seth replied quickly, already heading out the door as he sent the message. He was closer to the spot where they were going to meet, but also wanted to get there first just in case Roman or Dean—realistically Roman; Dean seemed like he would be more inclined to watch Becky kick someone's ass and cheer her on from the sidelines, perhaps shouting out helpful suggestions like 'Tear off his nuts!'—had been following the messages somehow and were coming to intercept him. He didn't think Becky would purposefully sic The Shield on him; if anything, she would just stand him up, and then he'd be disappointed—and saddled with a bunch of vegetarian food—but at least he would still be in one piece. 

Traffic was light, so Seth was able to open up the throttle and enjoy the ride for the first time in what felt like ages. It would have been even better without a helmet on, but he had been spoiled by The Authority's private roads and race tracks; pulling those sort of stunts out on public roads would get him a ticket at the very least, and he didn't want to test his luck, at least not today. When he arrived at the large old dairy farm, there were no other motorcycles in sight along the abandoned side road, so Becky either hadn't arrived or was going to be a no-show. _Or Roman's coming to kick my ass,_ Seth thought grimly. 

After pulling far enough down the side road that he wouldn't be easily spotted from the highway, Seth rummaged in the bag of food. He was munching on a granola bar and realizing he hadn't brought along anything to put garbage in when he heard the distant but distinct rumble of an approaching motorcycle. Peering down toward the highway, he couldn't see anything, so it was hard to tell if it was one bike or several, but he still got back on his bike and eased closer to the main road so he would be more visible. As the sound got louder, the approaching shape became clearer, and he could only see one bike. Whoever it was had come alone. 

The wide turn the rider took onto the side road seemed to indicate some hesitation, and Seth straightened up as the bike got closer. He couldn’t remember much about Roman's bike or Dean's, but then he saw some long red curls fluttering in the breeze and smiled. Unless Roman was committed enough to wear a wig, it was definitely Becky. Once the bike was close enough to pick out details, there was no doubt. "Hey," he called out as Becky dismounted and pulled off her helmet. He wasn't sure how to feel about her leather pants. They were obviously suitable for a ride—of the motorcycle variety, anyway—and she looked damn good in them, but he knew from experience how difficult they were to get on and off.

"Hey." Becky motioned at the old dairy. "Interesting spot for a picnic."

Seth shook his head. "This was just the landmark. The real spot is down a bit further." Then he paused. Hooking up in a hotel was dangerous enough; going down an abandoned road was murder mystery fodder. "Or there's a park just past the next town with a lot of hiking trails. . . ."

Becky shook her head. "I like the quiet. Lead on." She took a step back to her bike before going over and kissing him, taking him by surprise. "Unless you'd rather go somewhere else."

"No, I like the pants." Seth shut his eyes and grimaced, but Becky only laughed. "The peace, I mean. The peace and quiet."

Waiting until he had opened his eyes again, Becky kissed him on the cheek and started walking back to her bike. "It's okay if you like the pants too."

Seth laughed. "Good." There was no real need to wear his helmet on the side road; the path was so pitted that he wouldn't be able to get up to a good speed anyway. It was easier to wear it than carry it, though, so he secured the strap under his chin and headed out, smiling as he heard Becky's bike start up a second later. The group runs with The Authority could be fun, but it was more because of the speed than the company. This stretch might not have been the most exciting ride, but the company more than made up for it.

The road wasn't particularly wide, but Becky was able to pull up alongside him. "You had mentioned a ride, Rollins. This better not be it." Seth didn't dare take his gaze from the rough road to try reading her expression, but he caught a hint of teasing in her voice.

"That's for later," he promised. "I don't want the food weighing the bike down."

"Ha!" Since the road was fairly straight for a while, Becky shot ahead a bit, and they went back and forth like that for a few minutes until Seth pulled in front and eased into a turn. The old dairy was still visible behind them, but the road had led them to a clutch of trees that bordered a small pond. "What's this doing here?" she asked as they parked their bikes. It was the equivalent of an oasis in a desert, a rare patch of colour amongst the sun-bleached fields.

"A holdover from some land dispute back in the 1800s or something. The two farmers didn't want their land touching, so they kept some of the native trees and the woodland pond." Seth gestured to the towering trees. When he had found it on his ride, he figured it was a local make-out spot, but a quick walk around hadn't revealed the usual condom wrappers and beer cans. It seemed like even the locals either ignored or had forgotten about this place. "Some of the trees have been cut down since, I'm guessing, but it's still nice." As if to back him up, a bird wading in the water trilled a short song.

"It is." Becky tilted her head back and looked up at the scattering of trees around them, forming a patchy semi-circle around the pond. "I've been on the road so much that everything starts to look like concrete and glass."

Seth grabbed the picnic bag and pointed to a spot between the trees and the water where they would be able to enjoy both. "It's a tough gig, wrestling. What made you get into it? You don't strike me as the Diva type, so I doubt it was the bra and panty matches."

"Definitely not." Becky took the blanket from him and spread across the flattest section of wild grass. "I loved Lita, though. She was amazing. I got in so much trouble at school for wearing my jeans with the thong showing like she did."

It was a struggle not to peek at Becky's ass as she sat on the blanket. That was definitely a style Seth wouldn't mind seeing her in. "She was incredible," Seth agreed. "Esse Rios just seemed to disappear and no one cared, because Lita had everyone's attention." He started setting out various containers and bottles on the blanket between them; for all his preparation, he hadn't looked up how to present a picnic. "But you're not really a high-flyer like she was. . . ."

Becky shook her head. "No. I wasn't athletic at all as a kid. I was clumsy and insecure. . . ." She drummed her fingers on the container of grapes before opening it and plucking some off the stem. "But I just loved wrestling. I love acting and storytelling, and wrestling definitely has that, but it's more active. It's in your face and it's always changing and . . . it's like improv, I guess. You always have to be thinking." She leaned back on her elbows and smiled up at the sky. "That part of being on the road, I love. Always moving, always thinking. It keeps me sharp." Then she laughed a little bit. "What about you?"

Seth shrugged his shoulders. It was such a hard question to answer, and it was one that every interviewer asked. He couldn't ever remember _not_ loving wrestling. "I don't know," he admitted. "I was so young. I had the toys, the shirts, the merch. You know, backyard ring with friends and all of that. We'd beg our parents to rent the pay-per-views and we'd pool our allowance money. A bunch of them got into wrestling, but most of them are out of it now. Some wanted to start a family. Others got injured. I'm the only one serious about it anymore." Seth stopped for a moment as he finished emptying the bag. He had never really thought about that, how his first wrestling family was all out of the business. Was that what made The Authority so attractive to him, so comfortable a fit?

"Yeah, I know a lot of girls who dropped out after a few years. Most of them wanted kids, and you can't exactly be pregnant and still wrestle. Well, some women have, but it's so risky." Becky looked at the spread of food between them and blushed a bit. "You didn't have to get so much," she said. 

"It'll go faster than you think." Seth started assembling a sandwich with the various offerings.  
"Can I ask why you left wrestling for so long? If you don't want to talk about it," he added quickly, "it's cool. . . ."

Becky's smile was bittersweet, and she kept her gaze on the grapes for a moment as she steadily worked at freeing them from the stem and setting them in her other hand. "It's okay. It's out there on the internet, anyway, video footage and all. I had a bad injury and . . . it spooked me more than anything, honestly. My mom always hated the idea of me wrestling; she was so afraid I would get hurt. And then I did, and it made me think that the whole crazy dream of moving over to North America to wrestle full-time was a big mistake. So I spent years doing everything but—teaching, stunt acting, you name it—but the stars aligned, as they say, and I found my way back."

Seth was silent for a moment. To do all that work, to leave the only home she'd ever known and move to another country—that was huge. For her to leave the WWE, the pinnacle of the business she loved, must have broken her heart. "So why did you leave WWE, then?" he asked. Since she hadn't shut him down on the first question, she would probably do it on that one, but his curiosity was too loud to be ignored.

Becky's gaze darkened a bit, and she tried to laugh it off by pointing to Seth's bike, the first one The Authority had given him. Factory issue, it wasn't immediately identifiable as an Authority ride, but it was a step a lot of people didn't reach. "Because I never got a pretty bike?" she suggested. "No, it was for a friend. More like a sister. After all I went through, meeting my girls and becoming friends was . . . a life saver, really. So there was no question. They would have done the same for me."

_Would they?_ Seth wasn't as sure, but he wasn't about to say so; he had already dampened the mood enough. "I know Hunter's said that most times you can either make money or make friends. There aren't a lot of people brave enough to choose the second."

"Brave, stupid; maybe both." Becky tossed a grape at him and hooted with delight when he managed to catch it in his mouth. "What about you? Why do you stay? Sweet ride aside, you could probably get a better deal elsewhere. As long as Randy's still there," she added, her lips twisting bitterly, "you'll always come in second."

It had crossed his mind from time to time, more so after Hunter had summoned him into his office for this assignment. The simplest answer was that The Authority was like a family to him; just as Becky had left for Charlotte's sake, he stayed because he felt close to Stephanie and Hunter. "I guess it's the 'little fish in a big pond or big fish in a little pond' thing, as my grandpa used to say. When I dreamed about wrestling, it was in a WWE ring with all the lights and the pyro. Main-eventing WrestleMania. WWE itself was as much a part of the dream as the actual wrestling was, if that makes sense."

Becky nodded slowly. "It does." She leaned back a bit and while Seth was distracted by how her shirt pulled up, she eased a slip of paper out of her pocket and handed it to him. "So you don't feel like you're stalking me," she said with a bashful smile.

Seth opened up the folded paper and read the few words written there: a city name, an arena with some notes about seating, and a hotel. The city matched Stephanie's notes about the schedule the Four Horsewomen were keeping. "That's your event tomorrow?"

"Yeah. But the whole gang's going to be there: Roman, Dean, Bayley, Charlotte. Maybe Sasha." Becky's gaze dropped a bit, though her tone didn't change. "So probably not the safest place for you to show up."

It was a sign of trust all the same. A sign of interest? Seth had to hope so. Becky might have started out as an assignment, but now it felt strange if he didn't get to see her every day. He had always avoided dating women in the business, even just the interviewers, because he thought it would be too much. Now there was someone he would have loved to see for work and play, and she had left his dream job behind. "So maybe you should come meet me instead," he retorted, getting to his feet and tucking the paper in his saddlebag so he couldn't lose it. Even if he already had the information, it meant more coming from her, and he didn't want to lose it amongst all the food on the blanket.

Becky raised an eyebrow. "Except I have a match to wrestle, and you . . . must be off on injury or something, to have all this free time." She let her gaze sweep up and down his body. "I don't remember seeing any injuries, though."

Seth spread his arms wide. "You're welcome to take another look, if you like."

"Maybe The Authority gives vacation days to its princelings," Becky teased, slowly getting to her feet. "Yet another perk." She tried darting around him to look in his saddlebag, but he caught her around the waist easily and started wrangling her back towards the blanket. "Some of us have to work—"

"These damn pants are going to make me work," Seth growled, grabbing Becky's ass and squeezing. He doubted he would even be able to slide a few fingers between the pants and her skin, let alone his whole hand.

That started a very informal game of tag—ineffectual too, because rather than trying to avoid each other, they were actively groping and touching and teasing. Seth had just pulled Becky into a hard kiss when he heard a small splash. He assumed it was one of Becky's feet since she was struggling to regain her balance, but she quickly pulled away, eyes wide. "Shit. Is that your phone?" Heedless of her leather pants, she knelt at the pond's edge and fished out a shining object. The dripping rectangle held between her fingers was his, all right.

"Don't worry about it," Seth murmured, taking the wet phone from her and tossing it towards the blanket. "Authority perks, remember? I've got another phone. I'll transfer everything over to it tonight."

"Hmm. Two phones," she teased, pulling him back towards the blanket. "That usually means you're hooking up with two people. So who's the other lucky one?" Leaning closer, she licked a line up his neck, tracing a vein. "I bet it's Roman. That's why you're so worried about him finding out, right?"

Seth just laughed and tumbled them to the ground, impatiently shoving their picnic food to the opposite end of the blanket so they had some space. "You've solved the mystery of why I never have condoms. Roman always uses them all and I never have time to buy more."

"Thanks for the warning." Becky straddled him and wiggled just enough to make him groan. "Now I know not to get my hopes up."

"Those pants are worse than a chastity belt," Seth retorted, running his hands up her thighs. There were plenty of other things they could do, as they well knew, but he had actually planned on staying mostly clothed. Avoiding bug bites and grass stains was always good, but he was surprised at how much he just enjoyed talking with her, teasing her in ways that had nothing—or at least not much—to do with sex.

"That's the real reason I left WWE: Charlotte is the only one who could get me out of these." Becky's eyes glinted wickedly, and Seth caught glimpses of mossy green in their depths. "And they're my favourite pants, so I really had no choice."

If she thought the idea of Charlotte Flair undressing her was going to distract him, she was sorely mistaken. "Well, Charlotte's not here—"

Becky feigned rising off his lap. "She should be on her way to the next city. I could call her and get her to reroute. . . ."

"So I'll take my chances," Seth continued, rolling Becky onto her back and nearly tipping over a bottle of water. His soaked phone was right there too, but he just shoved it to the side. There would be time to mess with it later. Instead he rose up on his knees, pulled on Becky's hips until they were on his lap, and started to work on her zipper.

In the end it was too difficult to get her pants down far enough, so they made a game of it instead, only using hands to tempt and tease. Mouths went no further than navels—except for once when Seth couldn't help himself and he strayed to her barely exposed hip—and somehow, despite being mostly clothed, it was one of the most incredible experiences he'd had. "We should probably start heading back," Becky murmured against his chest, making no other effort to move. "Sun'll be setting soon."

"And you need to ask Charlotte the secret of getting you out of those pants," Seth added, sitting up with Becky still in his lap. Over the past hour or so, they had both shed their shirts; Becky's bra had been shoved down to her ribs, and he helped ease it back in place, though not before placing some strategic kisses that made Becky squirm.

"Or I could just wear something different tomorrow." Becky reluctantly pulled her shirt back over her head and stood, peering down at the fly of her pants. "Everything in place?" she asked Seth, doing a slow turn. 

Seth had to force himself to pay attention to her clothing and not her curves. "Yeah. You could always wear a skirt next time. . . ."

Busying herself with packing up the long-neglected food, Becky shrugged. "You never have condoms, though, so what's the point?"

Before she could move, Seth pressed against her, sliding a hand around her neck and putting his lips to her ear. "If I bring them, then I'm going to want to use them, so don't ask if that's not what you want."

"Bring them," Becky said simply, the heady darkness in her eyes saying all the rest. She turned his face so she could kiss him, biting lightly into his bottom lip when his hands started to wander too far. "Come on. The sun's setting."

"You just want to get on your bike because it's basically a giant vibrator, don't lie." Though Seth did refocus his efforts on packing up their neglected picnic, his gaze strayed more than once to Becky. _I should tell her,_ he thought, the idea rising in his head like a sudden mutiny, loud and riotous. _She'd be upset, but once I explain. . . ._

The look on her face, both playful and shy, shut up the dissenting voice in his head, though. He would find another way. He could always just enjoy a few more days with Becky and then report back to Randy and Hunter and say that none of the girls were willing to budge. The Authority would be none the wiser and, if he played his cards right, maybe he could stay on good terms with Becky as well.

Getting back on his bike and onto the open road wasn't as immediately intimate as the afternoon had been, but there was a similarly blissful expression on Becky's face once they got up to highway speeds, heading towards the jewel-toned sunset. The bikes were too loud to carry a conversation over, but their gazes did the talking until they had to turn onto a residential road and reduce their speed. _Whoever in The Authority thought that she wasn't worth it was a fool,_ Seth thought as they slowed. All too soon, he saw the familiar silhouette of her hotel. "See you tomorrow?" he said, turning his bike around and coming back alongside her, their knees almost touching as they took their helmets off.

"Yeah." It was only a single word, but there was a sense of wonder in it that made Seth flush with warmth. After a moment's hesitation, Becky leaned across the small space between them and kissed him.

Seth would have happily kissed her all night long, but he knew that the longer he lingered in the parking lot, the more likely he was to be discovered. "I'd love to stay and chat," he joked, "but I've been told I need to go buy some condoms."

He couldn't see her blush in the gathering dark, but he could feel the heat in her cheeks as he kissed her one last time before sitting back. "Roman is so demanding. You should really dump him." She reached over and patted his handlebar. "Keep it quiet until you're out of sight," she suggested, glancing up at the hotel's windows. "Just in case."

"Night." Seth winked at her before putting his helmet back on and left the parking lot as slowly—and thus quietly—as he could manage, even though he could practically feel the throttle itching to be opened up. He couldn't remember the last time he had enjoyed himself so much, or forgot about everything but the moment he was in. Even though the darkness made driving more difficult, he welcomed it: it meant tomorrow was that little bit closer.


	10. Chapter 10

Seth hadn't realized that mornings could be so long. They always seemed like the shortest part of the day, probably because he was usually asleep for most of it, but that morning seemed to take an eternity. He had planned on getting a good rest so he would have a clear head for heading to Becky's next appearance—and plenty of energy to spend afterwards. 

The night before, after he had left Becky and her hotel and then dumped all the leftovers from the picnic, he had gone to the closest drugstore and bought condoms before he could forget. Numbers suddenly took on a ridiculous level of consideration. Showing up with a box of thirty-six was probably excessive, but he definitely wanted more than three. A dozen seemed like a nice round number: prepared, even hopeful, but not arrogant. Naturally, that ended up being the one place on his travels that he was recognized, but Seth was fairly certain he managed to hide his purchase before the fan asked for a picture.

Now he held that box in his hands, flipping it back and forth, marveling at everything that had happened in just over a week; without anyone to discuss it with, Seth was already forgetting some of the smaller details. Nothing about Becky, of course; he was fairly certain he couldn't forget her if he tried. The dossiers on the Four Horsewomen, things he used to look at least once a day, were starting to bend and warp in his bag, and he was halfway tempted to dump them. His damaged phone was more dead weight, but he wanted to see if any of the pictures could be salvaged. His second phone was activated last night, though he hadn't tweaked all his preferences yet; his message history and notification sounds should have transferred, and those were the most important things. As he looked at his new phone, Seth vaguely thought he should call Hunter, but he had no idea what he would say. The WWE was his home and he loved performing at the highest level, but the more he followed Becky and her friends, the more he envied their freedom. _They only have that freedom BECAUSE of the WWE,_ he reminded himself. If they had been just starting out or even WWE mid-carders whose contracts had expired, they wouldn’t be able to command the attention they did.

Eventually Seth finished packing up his things, had a quick breakfast, and then hit the road. Riding solo hadn't bothered him much even a week before, but now it felt weird not to be looking for a fellow rider at his side. He hesitated when he arrived at the hotel Becky had mentioned, though. There were no tell-tale bikes in the parking lot yet, though he knew from experience that riding with a large group could take longer. What if they changed hotels at the last minute and he was stuck here? Becky would be able to text him, but it would make meeting up more difficult. Finding a safe spot to park would be a challenge too: his factory-issue bike wasn't instantly recognizable, but it would still probably pique Roman's interest at the very least, being a bike aficionado. 

Seth pulled his phone out of his jacket and called the hotel's front desk, hoping the staff would be so busy with the check-out turnover that they might let some information slip. "Hi there. I'm Tyler Kennett of Wrestle World Online." There were so many so-called wrestling journalists online now that he just put together a reasonable string of words; most of the blogs included 'wrestling' and 'world' in some combination. "I'm supposed to interview Charlotte Flair today, but my boss couldn't remember if it was at this location or the Harrison Avenue one. Can you confirm that she's staying at this location?" It was a risky question to ask: most desk clerks knew not to disclose personal information, particularly about celebrities.

But it seemed that Seth managed to get a desk clerk who was halfway between conscientious and overworked. "I know there's a wrestling event in town, sir, and some people from the event are scheduled to stay here, but I'm unable to say who's in residence without a client's express permission. If you have an interview scheduled, you'll need to talk to our conference room staff. I can patch you through—"

"That's all right," Seth said quickly. It was a shaky lie to begin with, and it wasn't going to stand up to much more scrutiny. "I'll try calling my boss again; he's been in meetings all morning and I was just hoping to get a head start. If I can't get through, I'll call back and take you up on that. Thanks for your time."

"You're welcome. Have a great day." After the desk clerk had disconnected, Seth waited a few minutes before tucking his hair up in a baseball cap and going in to rent a room. "Good afternoon, sir. Do you have a reservation?"

"No, but I'm hoping there's a room left. A single is fine. I'll be out most of the day anyway." While the desk clerk searched the room listings on the computer, Seth glanced around the foyer. It was a mid-level chain hotel, better than some of the ones the Four Horsewomen had stayed at but not loaded with features. He could glimpse into the bar where the daytime staff were still cleaning up from the night before, and he smiled when he saw a pool table. Bayley would be in her element, so that just meant Becky would have to brush off Roman, Dean, and Charlotte. Seth guessed that Charlotte was going to be the sticking point since she had been away; the girls had a lot of catching up to do.

"You're in luck. We have a few left. Do you have a preference as to floor?" the clerk asked.

"Not really." The hotel wasn't huge—maybe ten floors or so—and he didn't plan on using his room much anyway. Then an idea occurred to him. "I'm a pretty heavy sleeper, so I don't care if I'm on the party floor," he added with a laugh. "Save the quiet rooms for the business travelers."

The small act of concession earned him some brownie points with the desk clerk, who grinned. "That's a switch. Normally people are requesting the quiet ones. 713 it is, then." She entered a few commands and then a printer whirred to life beside her, spitting out a paper she set on the counter for him to sign. Then she handed over a key card. "Our regular check-out time is at eleven. If you want an extra two hours—"

Seth shook his head to spare her from going through the whole spiel. "I'll be out of your hair long before then." Grabbing the key, he raised it in a salute before heading for the elevator. Once he dropped off his bag, he would go find a safer spot to park his bike and then rent a car from the agency across the road.

As much as he tried to make each task take time, Seth felt the afternoon drag along almost as much as the morning had. After he had driven to the arena and got one of the last tickets available, he drove around aimlessly, desperately wishing he could drop in at a gym to work out. The city was small enough that word would travel, though, and WWE hadn't gone through there in years. It was one thing to be photographed in a drugstore with a fan—hopefully without his condom purchase in the shot—but working out usually implied an event that night. _Maybe I should make an appearance, stoke some rumours. . . ._ Seth quickly nixed the idea. Fun as it might be, he was hoping to avoid Roman and Dean if at all possible. For that matter, he didn't exactly want a run-in with Charlotte. The Shield and the Four Horsewomen might have seemed like an odd alliance, but it was clear that they all cared deeply for one another.

Once the event was only two hours away, Seth grabbed a quick bite to eat at a local pizzeria and drove by the hotel. Sure enough, five gleaming motorcycles were parked in a cluster at the back, not far from where he had originally had his bike. _Good thing I moved it,_ he thought. It was technically on private property, but the driveway facing the alley looked largely unused, so he would simply hope that the owner wouldn't spot it; it was in an awkwardly placed residential stretch not far from the hotel, and he could see the driveway in question from his window.

With the slim box of condoms tucked in his jacket the way other people stashed cigarettes, Seth tried to focus on the indie matches at the arena, but the ex-WWE stars were definitely the best part of the show. Charlotte was practically having to direct her opponent to be in the right spot to hit—or be hit by—a move, and Becky's opponent, a popular local competitor to judge from the brief but spirited pop, messed up on a chair shot that left Becky bleeding from the elbow. Charlotte had looked legitimately pissed when she came back to the ring to check on Becky, and Seth didn't envy the local wrestler at all.

On his way to his rental car, Seth took out his phone and texted Becky. _Nasty hit. You should get some rest._ He didn't want to say anything too specific since Charlotte was probably right beside her.

A winking emoji was the first reply. _Is your box empty already?_ was the next, and Seth laughed so hard he nearly tripped over a curb.

_Still sealed,_ he replied. _Later?_

The delay was long enough that Seth got in the car, popped the phone in the cup holder, and started heading back to the hotel. _Give me an hour? Medical, beer, and then I'll be done._ The next message was just a number: _751_. 

_713,_ he replied. His theory about the 'party floor' had been right, then. Even though WWE had strict behaviour policies for its talent, wrestlers were still presumed to be a rowdy bunch. Becky's room was on the same floor, but down a different hallway. _Probably in a cluster with the others,_ he thought grimly, _just like their bikes._ Maybe he could convince her to come to his instead so they would have more privacy. . . .

Out of habit, he drove past his bike before he parked at the hotel, wanting to make sure it was okay. Once he was reassured, Seth continued back around to the parking lot and picked a stall within sight of the ones where the bikes had been; whether out of consideration or simple coincidence, the spots were currently empty. He had been back in his room for about half an hour when he heard the familiar roar that made his pulse surge, and he parted the curtains on his balcony just enough to see five bikes pull in, the riders' conversation only audible once the bikes had been shut off. Seth had thought he was standing out of their sight lines, but Becky's gaze flicked up and he thought he caught the hint of a smirk as she passed under a security light. When his phone pinged, he almost jumped. _Yours or mine?_ the message read.

_Mine_. It was safer if she was caught wandering the halls late at night; she could always say she couldn't sleep and needed to stretch. Since Becky was still going to be busy for a while, Seth worked on Becky-proofing his suite. His bag went under the bed, the box of condoms on the side table, his phone on the small desk. He kicked off his shoes and draped his jacket over the desk chair, but otherwise stayed dressed; sometimes unwrapping a gift was half the fun.

By the time there was finally a tentative knock on his door, a hundred worries had zipped through Seth's mind. She changed her mind. Roman intercepted the message and was coming to beat him to a pulp. The hotel actually had two 713s and she went to the wrong one. But when he opened the door, she was on the other side, trying to look casual and failing magnificently. "Hey," he smiled, holding the door open for her. "How's your elbow? It looked bad—"

Becky cut him off with a kiss, looping her bandaged arm around his neck. "I'll be fine. Don't think that means I can't top." She kicked off her shoes and then reached for his phone. "Charlotte said she was going to check in on me around midnight. Set a reminder," she said, shoving it at him. "I already have one on mine."

"Done." Seth fumbled his way through the new interface and set a warning for quarter to twelve, then put his phone down on the nightstand so he could pick up the condoms. "See? Still sealed."

Grinning, Becky grabbed the box from him and sliced through the plastic circle with her nail. "Not anymore."

Seth laughed wickedly. "Well, now I have to use them. . . ." He reached in and pulled out of one the bright squares. "Unless. . . ."

"Just don't push me up against the wall," Becky replied, "and I'll be fine." With midnight in mind, they wasted no time pulling off each other's clothes and casting them aside, tumbling to the bed like they hadn't seen each other in weeks, not hours. Condoms were never graceful things, but Becky got it out of the wrapper and on his cock with the deftness of a magician. "If you only have twelve," she whispered in his ear, glancing over at the box again, "you'll need to make them count."

"I plan to." While he tried to figure out which positions would put the least amount of strain on her elbow, Becky rolled him onto his back and straddled him, rubbing against his cock as she leaned down to kiss him. "So impatient."

"Yep. What're you going to do about it?" Becky taunted, rising up just enough to slide the tip of him inside her.

"This." He half rolled, half wrestled her to the mattress until she was on her belly and started kissing his way down her back. "Or maybe this?" Then he pulled her up onto her knees, pressing her back against his chest as he reached around to tease her breasts.

Becky wriggled back against him, letting her head fall back against his shoulder. "Definitely this," she agreed.

"Good." It was like blacking out but brighter, almost metallic and gleaming. For a few whirling moments after he eased inside her, Seth felt almost liquid, all the desire he'd felt in the past week flooding through his veins. Becky was already giggling softly, breath catching every time his chest brushed her back, and when he slid a hand between her legs, she let out a long stream of Irish that made him wish he knew how to spell in Gaelic so he could look it up later. Much later.

Neither of them lasted very long the first time or the second. It was only the third time around when they had the time and wherewithal to tease, whispering in each other's ears or along each other's necks. "I should have brought the garbage can in here," he murmured as he slid off her. The used condoms and their wrappers were in a precarious heap on the box.

Becky stretched her arms out above her head, grinning widely. As soon as he told her he liked it when she starting talking Irish, she made a litany of it, and Seth hadn't cared that he couldn’t understand the words; the tone—the gasps, the halts, the ragged breathing—told him everything he needed to know. "I'm not going anywhere," she promised, reaching for his phone to see the time. "I've still got at least an hour. . . ."

"Good." Seth grabbed all the trash as he stood and headed to the bathroom, catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror as he picked up the small garbage can. Sweaty, shiny-eyed, scratched-up shoulders and blossoming bruises along his arms and thighs: in some ways, it wasn't much different than how he looked after a good wrestling match, but this was far better. The delighted trill of her laughter rang in his ears as he spotted the bite mark high on his thigh. _At least it will be easy to hide,_ he thought as he left the bathroom.

Becky was sitting up when he returned, posture oddly stiff, and it took him a minute to realize she was still looking at his phone. Her face was a porcelain mask of shock, shadowed with dismay. "Come on, Rollins." The ecstatic laugh, the teasing lilt, even her regular mirth: all of it was stripped from her voice. "How hard can it be to bang the redhead? Everyone knows she's the useless one."

"What?" Then there was another trill, and Seth realized it hadn't been the memory of Becky's laugh he had heard in the bathroom; it had been the all-too-real text alert on his phone, and since he hadn't bothered to change his privacy settings yet, those messages were all in plain view on the main screen.

"It's not like she's going to get a better offer elsewhere." Something in Becky's voice died with each word. "Wouldn’t get a boob job even when Hunter and Steph offered to pay for it, not that it would improve her much."

_Randy, I'm going to kill you,_ Seth swore. In the moment, though, he was frozen, garbage can dangling from his hand as Becky read word after word of Randy's scathing messages. "Becky, I can explain—" Even he winced at that. Had anyone innocent ever started an explanation with those words?

"Forget about the redhead already, unless you want to see if the curtains match the drapes." Becky snarled out the last few words, taking a moment to catch her breath. "Just get Charlotte back. Sasha if you can. No one gives two shits about Red or the hugger." More trills sounded, but Becky let the phone fall to the bed, the messages brightening the screen every few seconds.

"Becky, please. . . ." Seth set the garbage can down and knelt by the bed, but she was staring blindly at her hands, as if by having held the phone they were somehow responsible for the messages that had scrolled across it.

"People still use the carpet-and-drapes line." Those words were hers, and her laugh was cold and brittle, no relation at all to the beautiful, bubbling sound that had filled the room when they were twined together. "I would have thought the answer to that was obvious." She reached up and gave her flame-hued hair a sharp tug. "I hope you saved the receipt for the condoms. Maybe The Authority will reimburse you for them. Business expenses and all."

She still wouldn’t meet his gaze, so Seth reached for her hands, cupping them gently. Somehow being naked made it that much worse; he felt stripped bare in a way that had nothing to do with clothing, but even having a shirt on would have made him more comfortable. "Becky, please, just listen to me. . . ."

As soon as she raised her head, Seth realized it was a good thing that she hadn't met his gaze earlier. Her eyes were pure fury and anguish and she pushed him away, standing shakily and searching the floor for her clothes. "I already listened to you, and look where it got me." She stepped into her panties and pulled them up so quickly she tore a hole in the lace. "God, and they warned me too. Dean and Roman both warned me about you when they saw you that first time. So did Sasha. And stupid me figured they were overreacting. Stupid, stupid me." Unable to find her bra, she draped her shirt on the end of the rumpled bed and pulled her jeans on instead.

Seth quietly slipped his underwear back on; there was no way his being naked could help the situation, and if he had to run after her, he'd rather have something on. His jeans hung from his grasp, though, and he shut his eyes as another notification tone started to bleat. Hunter. Randy must have run to daddy dearest when Seth didn't answer his texts in under a minute. "I can—"

But Becky caught the new sound too, and she gestured sharply at his phone. "Who's that now? Hunter? Stephanie? Pulling on your leash, trying to get their little puppy to come back home?"

His ego seethed at that, but Seth forced himself to stay quiet. Becky's anger had sharpened her cheekbones, steeled her jaw, and the raw agony in her eyes was hard to see. On some level, she blamed herself for this—for all of it—and Seth couldn't figure out how to convince her otherwise. _I know it what it looks like,_ Seth wanted to say, but that was right up there with _I can explain_ in terms of credibility. "Becky, please don't go. Stay and I'll answer any questions you have, I swear. I'll explain everything."

By then she had found her bra and wrenched it into place, wincing as the bandage on her elbow pulled at the skin. Becky didn't even bother with her shoes; she just picked them up and, for a wild moment, Seth thought she might throw them at him. "Did you even try hooking up with Charlotte? Or Sasha? Or did you just aim low because you didn't want to fail and disappoint Mommy and Daddy?" She wasn't crying, but she still rubbed at her eyes. "Stupid me," she repeated. "You even rode their damn bike right in front of me and I still didn't figure it out. No wonder they didn't give a fuck when I left. They only ever wanted to get Charlotte back. Even when they tried to contact me, it was always about her. Even this—even _this_," she emphasized, one sweep of her arm taking in the sex-strewn sheets, the used condoms in the trash, the marks she had left on Seth's skin, "was about her. Because _of course it was!_ It always is." She patted her phone in her pocket and for a moment Seth thought she might call Roman or Dean for help, but even as the notion passed through his head, he knew it was wrong; Becky blamed herself and she would never ask either of them to clean up her mistake.

"Becky, wait." As she stormed to the door, Seth dropped his jeans on the bed and reached out to catch her arm, but she batted his hand away, gaze stricken and sad. "Hate me if you want, I get it, but you need to know that I picked _you_—"

Becky let out an incredulous huff of breath and rolled her eyes. "As a mark. Yeah, Rollins, I got that part loud and clear. Thanks."

"No! It's not that at all." It had been, of course, at least at the start, but then it had turned into something thorny and wild and exhilarating and Seth didn't know how to put it into words. It felt like how his muscles burned after a long workout, or the way his pulse hammered at his skin: it felt worth it. Suffering for eventual gain; he had followed The Authority's orders and somewhere along the way met an incredible, insufferable woman who challenged him in all the best ways. "I chose you because I wanted you—"

For a single fleeting second, Seth thought he might have broken through her anguish. It wouldn’t be that easy to rectify his mistake, but for that taut moment, he thought he could reach her—the woman he had laughed with and ridden with and kissed and fucked and followed happily. But then her eyes darkened again, shutting him out, and she shook her head. "And because you're a princeling, you got what you wanted. Congratulations. At least someone did."

Her parting jab felt like a punch to the gut and by the time Seth thought of something to say, Becky was out the door and down the hallway, already rounding the turn that would take her to her room. Even though he was only wearing his underwear—and in retrospect, he vaguely thought he put it on backwards in his haste—he would have run after her, desperate to explain that what had once admittedly been a job had become something genuine, but his phone kept ringing and pinging, and he finally gave up and jabbed the call button. "WHAT?"

Randy seemed unfazed by his anger. "You haven't updated me in days, Rollins."

"Busy," he said curtly. "Can't talk. I'll call tomorrow. And stop tattling to Hunter." Then he hung up and flopped down on the bed, zoning out in a mire of regret until his phone made another sound, this one a gentle ting. Becky's warning alarm for a quarter to midnight. After pulling his bag out from beneath the bed, Seth lowered the volume on his phone and jammed it inside. It was a reminder of his failures, and he didn't need any more of those; the shock of betrayal in Becky's gaze kept replaying in his head, long after he fell into a fitful sleep.


	11. Chapter 11

It wasn't the sunlight that woke Seth up, even though it was bright enough that it almost had a sound, like what a bell would sound like if it yelled rather than rang. It wasn't the strange bed, even though hotel beds still always felt odd even after years on the road. A small part might have been the chill, expecting to have a body curled up to his and being disappointed; he must have woken up enough at some point to put his clothes back on, but they felt stiff and grimy. A larger factor was the emotional hangover, which left his chest tight and hollow; his heart felt like a beer can crushed by hand.

The hammering on the door, though, was impossible to ignore. It had to be waking up everyone on the whole damn floor, if not also the ones directly above and below.

"ROLLINS!" For a fleeting second, blinking away the brightness and pressing a hand against his aching chest, Seth let himself think it was Becky. The voice was too booming, too deep, but maybe that's how things sounded when you broke your own heart. Then the door bowed in and left no doubt; there was no way Becky's silhouette would take up the majority of the doorway.

Roman was the first one through, hauling Seth off the bed, into the air, and against a wall before Seth could finish a blink. Dean seemed to be taking over the door's role, keeping everyone else out. It was hard to get a good look, what with the arm at his throat and all, but Seth desperately hoped to see even the barest glimpse of red hair. 

There wasn't any. It was just Dean standing guard, Roman cutting off his breath, and Seth flailing and kicking and doing anything he could think of to weaken the big man's grip. Dean leaned against the door jamb and casually flicked some broken splinters off his leather jacket. "What's the going rate for a hotel door these days, bro?"

Roman's gaze lost none of its flintiness when he turned to look at Dean, but his friend didn't seem perturbed in the least. "I covered it down at the desk. We're good."

Dean just shrugged. "As long as you covered installation too. Because I'm not messing about with drills unless it's for a match."

When Roman turned back to face Seth, his eyes were almost pure black. "What the hell are you doing here, Rollins?"

How had Roman and Dean found him? As upset as Becky was, Seth didn't think sending her friends after someone was Becky's style; she struck him as the type who got vengeance on her own and wouldn't be happy if someone else tried to do it for her. Roman had said something about the desk clerk, but Seth was finding it harder and harder to think. "He might need a little more air if you want an answer," Dean said blandly. Seth glanced over, but if he thought he had an ally in Dean, he was sorely mistaken; he had taken out his phone and snapped a picture of the scene. "I needed a new lock screen picture," he grinned when he caught Seth looking at him. "Something to perk me up when I start my day, you know? Smiles take you miles and all that."

Roman snorted, but eased up on his arm just enough that Seth could breathe more comfortably—at least until Roman punched him in the gut, sending him to the floor. "I looked into you after we saw you at that bar," Roman spat, shaking out his fingers. "And I thought I caught some glimpses of you lurking around, but I didn't think you were _that_ stupid." When Seth tried to stand, he kicked him back down and then continued pacing around him in a circle. "But then Becky got really upset last night, so I thought I'd ask the desk clerk if any sleazy little princelings had been hanging around, and—" Roman stopped abruptly, gaze trapped by something on the floor.

The choking and the punch had been bad enough. Seth didn't want to think about what Roman was going to do now that he had seen the condoms, specifically the used ones, strewn across the floor. But two things held Roman back. Dean had finally entered the room, pushing against Roman's chest.

And someone had hollered Roman's name in the hallway. No, not someone. The voice was altered by the jagged breathing of a frantic run and underscored by heartache, but Seth had been hoping to hear it for hours, so he recognized it instantly. _Becky._ Bayley was grabbing at her arm, trying to hold her back, but Becky plowed forward. Only when Charlotte caught up and trapped Becky's other arm did she come to a stop.

God, she was gorgeous. Dark circles under bleary eyes. Ragged bottom lip, chapped from too much biting. Her hair was more tangles than curls and the sweater that was draped around her didn't seem to be doing anything to keep her warm, but she was still easily the most beautiful thing in the room. She turned and murmured something to Bayley and Charlotte, who reluctantly let her go and stepped back. "We'll be just outside in the hall," Charlotte replied, reaching forward and brushing some hair out of Becky's face before leaving the room; Bayley followed after giving Becky a quick hug.

"Roman, stop." Becky wasn't crying. She wasn't screaming or shrieking; her voice hadn't even sharpened. It was simple and stark, and that hurt to hear more than anything.

"No. This asshole," Roman snarled, grabbing the collar of Seth's shirt and hoisting him to his feet, "needs to learn to listen and—"

Before Roman could slam him into the wall again, though—Seth still had enough wherewithal to spare a thought for the poor soul in neighbouring 715, who was probably trying to sleep—Becky stepped between them, stumbling a bit with Roman's momentum. From the look of horror in Roman's eyes, you would think he accidentally dropkicked a baby. "Roman, _stop_ Please."

And just like that, Seth was forgotten. He could have kicked out Roman's knees or scrambled to his feet to try dashing past Dean, but everyone in the room seemed frozen in that moment. "Becky, what are you . . . shit. Are you okay? Did I—?" Roman reached for her shoulder and she squeezed his hand when it landed. 

"I'm fine," Becky assured him, voice still stripped bare, "but you don't have to do this. I'll deal with it."

Roman shook his head. "No, this Authority asshole needs a beating—" He tried to veer around Becky to get to Seth, but she moved right along with him. 

Riveted, Seth watched the mostly silent confrontation between the two, yelping when a sharp pain tore at his side. "Eyes up, sunshine," Dean said with quiet menace. "Just because it seems like you've seen the show doesn't mean you get an encore." Then he grabbed Seth's arm, yanked him towards the bed, and forced him to sit. "And get those off the floor, would you?" Dean pointed at the condoms, radiating in a semi-circle around the toppled garbage can. "That’s unsanitary. Not to mention you better hope no one gets murdered here now, because they're going to find your DNA all over the damn place."

As Seth gathered all the condoms—even the unused ones; he wasn't likely to get a reason to keep them handy—and tossed them in the trash, his gaze kept flicking back to Becky and Roman. She had a gentle staying hand on the big man's chest and her sadness seemed to steady her. "Roman, please. You warned me. You did your bit already. This was my mistake. I'll deal with it."

_This was my mistake._ The words lanced through Seth's gut and made him flinch. In terms of sexual jabs, the only ones that could be worse involved penis size or premature ejaculation. He looked up at Becky again, hoping to see some sign that she didn't mean it—that it was all just placating words to get Roman out of the room, out of the equation, so they could talk—but her solemn expression gave away nothing.

Dean subtly positioned himself at Roman's side. "C'mon, bro. He's not worth the assault charge." Then he held out an arm to Becky, who ducked under it and gave him a quick hug. "You're good, Irish? We'll be just outside." Glancing at the splintered door, he shrugged. "Not that you'll get much privacy, but. . . ."

"I'll be fine. Thanks, Dean. Go make him have some breakfast, yeah?" Becky shot Roman a lopsided smile. "He needs some coffee, I think. The girls can stay out in the hall and they'll call if we need any help."

"You're sure?" All Roman's rage had ebbed away and now he was looking at Becky like she was a glass figurine that had toppled from a high shelf. "I didn't mean to—"

"I know." Becky gave him a full body hug, wrapping her arms around him and burying her face in his chest, not letting go until Roman's breathing had completely evened out. "Go have breakfast," she urged him. "Tell the girls where you're going so they don't worry."

"He's not the one we're worried about, babe." Charlotte's voice carried in from the hall. Any hopes Seth had held for privacy—let alone delusions of anything else—were soundly dashed.

Dean shot a final glare in Seth's direction before guiding Roman towards the doorway. "Don't be afraid to kick him in the balls. It's highly therapeutic. For you, anyway. Pure hell for him, but that’s kind of the point."

Her answering smile was a bit brighter than the one she gave Roman, but her voice was still devastatingly flat. "Don't make me call your girlfriend, Dean."

He just laughed at that. "Are you kidding me? She'd tell you to kick him in the groin and tell me to film it so she could watch it later." Then Dean piloted his friend out of the room, and in the resulting silence Seth could hear him and Roman talking to Charlotte and Bayley in the hallway.

Seth shoved the garbage can and its bounty of condoms under the balcony door curtain. _Out of sight,_ he thought, _and hopefully out of mind._ Becky probably wouldn't get into graphic detail when her friends were eavesdropping—and anyone in the hallway could overhear—but she didn't need to have the evidence right in her face either. "Thanks," he said simply, rubbing his throat. His gut still ached and he was sure to have some nasty bruises, but if Becky hadn't intervened, things would have been far messier.

"That was for Roman," Becky said simply, leaning back against the desk. "He's a good guy." Only now that they were alone did she absently rub the shoulder that Roman had inadvertently hit. "From the minute the Horsewomen left—from before, when we were in WWE—he was always looking out for us. Dean too. He doesn't deserve to be in jail for losing his cool."

The throbbing ache encircling Seth's neck made him want to say otherwise, but he kept quiet. Badmouthing Roman wasn't going to win him any points with Becky—or Charlotte or Bayley, whom he couldn't afford to forget about either. "I'd like to try to explain," he began, sitting back on the bed. He would have rather saved this conversation until after he'd eaten, but he knew he was lucky to be having it at all. "Will you hear me out?"

A soft knock on the doorjamb startled them both. "Babe," Charlotte piped up, "if anything's going to get detailed, you might want some privacy."

After a moment, Becky nodded. "We can use my room or Charlotte's. Pack up all your stuff." 

Her eyebrows rose as he took the garbage bag out of the can and tied a knot in it, but she said nothing. Dean's comments had made him paranoid. It didn't take long to grab his bag from underneath the bed and then Seth did a quick circuit of the room, but he hadn't unpacked much to begin with. He and Becky had been busy and then after Becky stormed out, he had mostly moped. "Ready when you are," he replied, garbage bag in one hand and travel bag in the other.

Once they were all in the hallway, Bayley pointed to the elevator. "I'm so hungry, guys. Can I do a food run and bring some stuff up? Please?"

Charlotte nodded imperiously, never taking her gaze off Seth. "We'll be in my room, Bay. Hurry back, and let the boys know if you see them."

Bayley agreed and sped off, and Seth could only hope that he'd be included in the impromptu breakfast; even just a coffee would do wonders for him. Adrenaline from the near-fight with Roman was starting to make him shake, and he was fairly certain Charlotte's vengeance would be worse than Roman's. "Wouldn't this be easier if I just told everyone at the same time?" Seth suggested. He didn't particularly want to confess to anyone but Becky, but the prospect of rehashing the same damning details over and over wasn't great either.

"No. Roman's not ready to listen to you right now." Becky's voice had softened somewhat in terms of strain; her tone was no kinder towards him. "And I don't think certain details would endear you to him or Dean."

"Or me, for that matter," Charlotte hissed, stopping in front of a door and unlocking it. "But if Becky says not to hurt you, then I won't—for her sake."

Charlotte's room looked like it was one grade above his: the bed was bigger, there was also a couch, and her bathroom appeared to have a Jacuzzi tub. Since neither woman gave him any direction, Seth sat on the couch and set the bags on the floor between his feet. "Did you want me to wait for Bayley to come back?" he asked, trying to keep his voice level.

Becky shook her head as she sat at the foot of the bed. "This is more about Charlotte," she said, shutting her eyes when her best friend sat beside her and slung an arm around her shoulders. "So she's the one who needs to know the most."

There were so many ways to lie, to evade. The truth was simpler but harder. Maybe if he'd had a full stomach or a proper night's rest or a windpipe that didn't protest with each breath, Seth would have tried to be clever, but when he looked at Becky he knew there was only one possible path. She likely wouldn’t forgive him, but he needed her to know that she had stopped being a mark for him almost on day one. "Charlotte, you know your father's sick."

Charlotte just rolled her eyes at that. The contrast between her and Becky was striking, and it wasn't just their height difference. Even at that early hour, Charlotte was dressed photo-shoot ready and had her make-up on. Seth wondered if every bit of it was as much defense as offence. "So I've been told. What is it this time? His heart again? Kidneys? Liver?" Her tone wasn't completely callous, but it was evident this was a road she had travelled more than once.

Seth just shrugged. "I don't know, in all honesty. Hunter and Stephanie just told me that it's bad, really bad. The doctors aren't sure he'll make it—"

"That's what they said the last four times. He's as well preserved as The Rolling Stones." Charlotte shook her head. "He's probably going to outlive me."

"Char." Becky reached up and squeezed her friend's hand. "If it actually is serious, you'll never forgive yourself. Think about Reid." For the first time that morning, Seth heard some depth in her voice. "I'm sorry, but you know I'm only thinking of you."

Charlotte blinked furiously, turning her head away as she composed herself. "I know. I just—okay. My dad's sick." She repeated the facts as bluntly as possible. "It's bad. You're telling me that's what all the calls and texts and emails have been about? To me and Becks and Sasha and Bay?" She pressed a messy kiss to Becky's cheek. "Yeah, babe, I know you guys were getting them too. You were trying to keep them from me and I appreciate that."

It was another perfect spot for a lie, just a tiny one, but Seth didn't have the energy for it. "Not just that. Yeah, your dad wants to reconcile and make amends just in case." Seth just meant to pause for a breath, but then there was a knock on the door.

"Don't move," Charlotte told Seth, standing up and kissing the top of Becky's head as she went to see who was at the door.

Seth took advantage of the brief window of privacy with Becky to lean towards her. "Becky, please, I know everything I'm saying sounds horrible because it _is_ horrible, but what I feel about you—the things we . . . did—that's all real. It's me and it's genuine and. . . . "

"Coffee!" Bayley was smiling as she set a loaded tray down on the bed. "And all the sugary pastries I could beat Dean to." Seth was momentarily forgotten as the three women loaded up plates and poured coffee, commenting on Bayley's choices or on how good something tasted.

After a couple minutes, Becky stood and handed a cup of coffee to Seth. "Any allergies?"

Seth shook his head. "Not to foods, no." He would take any kind gesture she was willing to extend at that point. When she returned with a plate for him—far more modestly filled than any of the women's, not that he was about to complain—he let his fingers brush hers as he took the dish. She stiffened a bit at the touch, but the smallest of moments, something had sparked in her eyes. "Thanks."

"So what did I miss?" Bayley asked around a mouthful of croissant.

"Ric Flair is sick and might die, and he wants to make amends with Charlotte." Put so succinctly, it almost sounded cruel, but Seth didn't want to linger on details. "Hunter and Stephanie have been trying to get in touch with any of you to get Charlotte back, but it wasn't working, so they sent me."

Bayley didn't look impressed. "To do what? Hand deliver a summons? Can't they take a hint? We left. We had good contracts. We had title shots lined up. And we still left."

Seth drank his coffee gratefully. It certainly wasn't gourmet, but it was better than nothing. "They wanted me to convince you all to come back. They want you back in the women's division. They even—" Seth started to reach for his travel bag, but felt three steady glares waiting for him to make a wrong move. "Can I get something out of my bag to show you?"

Charlotte and Bayley both looked to Becky. There was a hint of worry in her eyes, but she nodded. "Go ahead."

Showing them the dossiers and all his notes would be a risk, but he didn't know what else to do. He couldn't think of a lie that would salvage his case or make him look good. If nothing else, telling the truth would put him and Becky on even footing. "The pictures and the typed stuff all came from Stephanie and Hunter. The notes . . . are mine." He handed each woman her file directly, hesitating with Sasha's before sticking it back in his bag. "They didn't give me anything on Roman and Dean, so that was a bit of a surprise. They had your indie schedule, though, and it was pretty accurate. . . ." 

The three women shared a look. "How?" Charlotte asked sharply, and it took Seth a moment to realize it was a rhetorical question. "We don't normally mention anything on social media until the event is close. Do they have sources in the indies too?" She let out a string of profanity that almost rivaled Becky's. "How are we supposed to get away from them?"

Bayley's expression pinched as she read her dossier, her breakfast forgotten. "So I'm the one who will go along with anything. Nice." She looked up at Seth with a mixture of curiosity and contempt. "So why didn't you go after me then?"

Seth pushed some crumbs around on his plate. While the three friends had been reading their files, complaining in equal measure, he had been steadily eating his food. It did nothing to ease the ache in his throat or his gut, but it helped calm his nerves. "How blunt do you want me to be?" The question was mostly for Becky and he held her gaze as he asked it, but the other two were obviously intertwined in the whole mess.

Becky rubbed at her mouth, her dark eyes conflicted. "Just say it. They're like my sisters. I would have told them eventually anyway." She dropped her gaze to the floor, and Seth tried to nudge the garbage bag out of her line of sight.

"Hunter and Stephanie . . . they basically gave me free rein. You can see the perks they were willing to offer each of you to flip. But they told me to use whatever means necessary, including seduction." It sounded like such an old, stuffy word, not remotely close to anything he had done with Becky. "And . . . I figured if sex was going to be part of the equation, I wanted to it to be with someone I was attracted to."

"From a fucking dossier." Becky tossed her file to the ground and grabbed her coffee again, downing half of it in one scalding gulp. "A file of stolen pictures and match stats and all my weaknesses in pretty point form. I'm sure you'll be proposing any minute, right?"

Seth leaned back against the couch, cursing himself. He hadn't thought sharing the dossiers would earn him a ton of good will, but he had hoped it would at least be start. All it had done was show the Horsewomen how the WWE had reduced them to _things_, to marketing possibilities and assets. He focused on Charlotte first. "Listen, I know this is really no consolation at all, but . . . I think Hunter actually gives a damn. Steph too, in her way. Charlotte, they kept talking about how ridiculously talented you are, especially since you hadn't even planned on wrestling." Then he turned to look at Bayley. "Steph might bitch about Sasha, but it's clear she respects how driven she is. And Bayley, Hunter says you're way smarter than anyone gives you credit for."

Bayley tried to keep a proud smile from her face, turning away from her friends for a moment. It was obvious that she and Becky were the overlooked two of the Four. "Obviously not if he thinks I'm so gullible," she tried to retort.

"Becky." Now it was Seth who couldn't meet her gaze. "When Hunter talked about how you came back to wrestling after your injury, he was so proud; it was like you were his damn kid. He knows how much you love wrestling. He knows what it means to you." Seth rubbed his face and had another sip of coffee. "They need all of you. When you left, the women's division crashed."

Becky and Bayley shared a look, but Charlotte was largely unmoved. "I would consider going to talk to my dad and letting him say what he feels he needs to say. That doesn't mean I'll forgive him," she added quickly. "But I'd listen. I'm not going back to work for Hunter and Steph, though." She gestured to the modest hotel room they were in. "This is nothing compared to what WWE offers. I know that. But I also know that it's mine. I worked my ass off there to get the reputation I have, and if I can live on that, then I will."

Bayley didn't look as confident, but she spoke up next all the same. "I don't know how Sasha feels, but I don't want to go back either. For all their talk and promises, they're only ever going to let us go so far. Out here in the indies, we don't have to worry about TV ratings or content warnings. We're free. And who knows? Maybe one day, another WCW or something will pop up and we can have the best of both worlds. Until then, I'm happy enough without them." She reached over and patted Becky's thigh. "Becks?"

"Charlotte has my support. She knows that." Becky rested her head on Charlotte's shoulder briefly, and Charlotte leaned against her in turn. "If you want to go back so your dad can say his piece, I understand that. But I won't go back there. I want to wrestle; you know I do." She met Seth's gaze then and he saw a hint of her fire returning, embers stirring in the ashes. "But I can be the best wherever I am. I don't want to be jumping through their hoops anymore."

It was hardly a success. Hunter and Stephanie were more focussed on getting the Four Horsewomen back on the roster, not on fulfilling Ric Flair's deathbed wishes. But Becky was at least looking at him and talking to him, which was a start. Seth wanted to ask if there was anything that could change their minds, anything not listed in the dossiers or the list of concessions Stephanie had given him, but then Roman and Dean knocked on the door, and the room—as well as the conversation—got a lot more crowded. Seth started to recap the major details for The Shield, glossing over the seduction angle for Becky's sake—but when he raised his head to look for her, she was gone.


	12. Chapter 12

Seth had hoped he would only have to explain things twice: once to Becky, Charlotte, and Bayley, and then again when The Shield arrived. But Roman made him rehash the story over and over, though, picking at details and asking endless questions. Becky might have stopped him from beating Seth to a pulp, but apparently she was fine with Roman nagging him to death. _I deserve it,_ Seth kept telling himself whenever his gaze strayed to the door. Almost an hour had passed and Becky hadn't returned yet. After a while, with no one else having even mentioned her absence, Seth gave in. "Aren't any of you worried about Becky?" he demanded, looking from one unforgiving face to the next. Even Bayley, the so-called sweetheart of the bunch, wasn't looking very hospitable. "She's been gone for almost an hour. . . ."

Roman didn't even blink. "We know where she is. She's good. You might want to focus on yourself—second nature for you, I know—because _you're not_. Tell me again how Hunter and Stephanie got our schedules."

After another twenty minutes of questioning, even Bayley was reaching her breaking point. "Roman, he's saying the same thing over and over. It's either the truth or he's committed to the lie. Can we stop now?"

Charlotte nodded. "Obviously some of the event organizers are giving out our information: dates, matches, even where we're staying. That's a huge problem."

Huffing out a long breath, Roman glared at Seth. "Is this all your stuff?" he asked, gesturing at the travel bag and the garbage bag.

Seth nodded. He wasn't exactly going to keep the garbage bag as a souvenir, but there didn't seem to be a good place to put it at the moment. "Yeah. My rental car is in the lot, and—"

"Keys? Phone?" Roman held out his hand expectantly.

"In my bag." When the answer alone didn't satisfy Roman, Seth opened his bag cautiously—sudden moves were a bad thing around Roman and Dean, he had learned—and brought out the car keys and his phone, showing them to everyone in the room. His thumb hovered over the phone screen, waiting for Roman to demand that he unlock his phone and show them his texts.

Dean gave his bag a kick. "Put them back in. They're staying here as collateral," he explained. "The four of us need to chat."

Seth frowned as he rose. "Shouldn't Becky be here for that?"

"She wouldn't like some of the things we have to say," Roman replied simply, "but that doesn't mean they don't need to be said. And you don't get to hear them either. So take off and come back here in about an hour." After a moment's consideration, Roman grabbed Seth's bag, opened it, and pulled out his wallet. "Take your hotel card and some cash. Then you can get back in the building without any hassle."

_So generous._ Even in the privacy of his head, Seth didn't say it too loudly. Plucking his room card and a ten-dollar bill from his wallet, he walked backwards towards the door. He'd taken part in enough blindsides to be wary. They were trusting him enough to let him go, though, even if only for an hour; he might not have his wallet or phone, but he could easily find a way to call Hunter for help. "Be back in an hour, then."

There was an elevator bay close to Charlotte's room, but Seth started walking back to the one closer to his suite. After the long interrogation, he needed to move and stretch, but more than that, he felt drawn back to his room. The last few hours had been surreal and he wanted to remember everything that had happened; Hunter and Stephanie would undoubtedly have a lot of questions, but more than that, he needed figure out things for himself. Where had his plan gone wrong? From the very beginning, most likely, thinking that Becky would be easily swayed. He also hadn't counted on the fierce bond between the Four Horsewomen and The Shield.

Roman had mentioned covering the cost of the damaged door, so when Seth turned down his hallway and heard muttering, he figured a repair crew was already on site, hard at work cleaning up Roman's mess. The closer he got, though, he realized he couldn't hear any drills or even a second voice, and a door could be hard to wrangle alone. He poked his head around the fractured frame warily, Dean's taunts about DNA coming to the fore again, but to his surprise, Becky was sitting on the bed, holding a chunk of the broken door in her hands. "Going vampire hunting?" he quipped weakly.

Becky's shoulders tightened visibly, but she otherwise reined in her surprise. "I just needed some space to think. Having them all there was. . . ."

"Overwhelming?" Seth took a cautious step into the room. When Becky didn't throw her wooden shard at him, he stepped over some of the debris and stood near the foot of the bed. Aside from the mess made by the door, the room looked eerily normal, as if his world hadn't come crashing down in here mere hours ago. "I know the feeling."

When Becky glanced up at him, Seth was relieved to see some spark starting to shine in her eyes again. She was obviously still upset, but she didn't look utterly bereft anymore. "I didn't tell Roman anything, I swear. I didn't tell any of them anything. I tried to stop him," she continued, dropping her gaze to the wood in her hands, "but Charlotte grabbed me so I couldn't follow Roman and Dean right away, and. . . ." She shook her head and set the piece of wood aside, wiping her hands gingerly on her leggings to make sure there were no splinters. "I know it was all really about Charlotte and her dad, but . . . I told them it was my mistake, my problem. They didn't have to get involved."

"I don't want to be a mistake." Seth's gut twisted again, and for a moment he wondered if Roman had caught up with him and given him another agonizing punch. _Maybe that's my conscience,_ he thought. _I haven't heard from it in a while. . . ._

"So it's back to what you want again, is it?" Becky let out a long breath and slouched, planting her elbows on her knees. "None of them are going to look at me the same way again. They're always going to remember that I was the one who almost fucked everything up, just because I was stupid and I thought you—" She stopped herself and stood, peering out the balcony curtains. "Well, Bayley should be happy. She finally lost the title of _Most Gullible_."

"Becky, don't—don't think like that. Please." Seth sat at the end of the bed. "I was the only one in the wrong here. And I'm sorry. I really, really am. I wish all this had happened differently. I wish we had met in WWE or . . . any way other than this," he fumbled, "because my feelings would still be the same."

Becky shuffled back to the bed slowly, sitting towards the middle—not as far away as she could have, but not close enough to even hint at being an invitation. "I'm surprised you haven't taken off yet."

"Roman's holding my bag hostage," Seth admitted. "And I was hoping to see you before. . . ." Before what? Seth wasn't sure what was left for him. The Authority wouldn't fire him for not bringing the Four Horsewomen back, but he knew what happened to people who didn't deliver. His title matches would quietly disappear and be given to someone else. Wins would no longer be guaranteed; he would be scheduled to get more and more guys over, and then the next thing he knew, he would be at someone else's coronation, watching them get their custom bike, and he would be the latest cautionary tale. "Before I decide what to do."

"Decide?" Becky's eyebrows dipped in genuine confusion, her expression truly softening in his presence for the first time that morning. "What's to decide? You go back to WWE, tell Hunter that Charlotte wouldn't budge, take some bumps and then move on. They've invested too much in you to cut you loose just for this."

Seth gave a low chuckle. Not even half a day ago, he and Becky were having sex on that bed; now he was facing the prospect of never seeing her again. "I appreciate the vote of confidence, but I don't think Hunter and Steph will be quite that forgiving. They made it pretty clear that they wanted you four back. . . ."

Becky planted her hands on either side of her hips so she couldn't fidget. "I'm not going back. I can't ask the others to go back."

"So ask me instead." The words flew out of Seth's mouth before he could stop them, his fingers lightly curving over Becky's knuckles. When she didn't move away, he added, "Ask me to come with you."

"Roman could have killed you. Dean would have let him. Charlotte and Bayley would have watched." When Becky met his gaze, though, the fire he saw rekindled in the other room was starting to build. She was upset and ashamed, but those feelings would pass; her affection for her friends—and, maybe, for him, if he was lucky—ran deeper. "They're not going to give you a hand-written invitation to come with us."

Seth shook his head, wrapping his fingers around hers. "I didn't say anything about them. I said to ask me to come with _you_."

Becky's eyes looked like dark tears, luminous and soft, and she seemed to be struck speechless. Eventually she simply shook her head and dropped her gaze to the floor, though she didn't move her hand from beneath his. "I'm not leaving them." She said it flatly but without cruelty. "They're my friends. They're like brothers and sisters to me. Whatever . . . whatever I feel for you, it doesn't cancel that out."

"I'll deal with them. I'll win them over. I'll prove myself. Even if they just tolerate me, I'm fine with that." Seth lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed it. "If you wanted me there, I'd do whatever it took. But it would be for you. I don't need them to like me. But I need you to—" Becky shivered when he sighed, and then he realized he hadn't set her hand back down. "I screwed up our beginning. I know that. But I'd like to know if we could have worked if I hadn't. So if there's anything I can do to make that happen, tell me and I'll do it."

A smile twitched at Becky's lips. "So if I told you to paint the WWE Headquarters atomic yellow, you'd do it?"

"It would probably take a while to get all the paint mixed," Seth replied, "but yes."

Becky started listing off an increasingly silly list of stunts, from putting dirt in Stephanie's coffee to changing all the custom leather on Randy's bike to pastel pink. Whatever she suggested, he replied with a way to get it done. "You're just goofing around," she said at last, sounding more wistful than disappointed. "You're Hunter's next chosen one. You're guaranteed as many titles as you want, whatever dream matches you want. You're not going to just walk away. You'll go back, take whatever punishment they dole out, toil in the mid-card for a while, and then be right back where you were."

"No." Then it was Seth's turn to list off things he was willing to do, all serious, all involving an element of sacrifice. One in particular seemed to catch Becky's attention, so he scooted a bit closer, happy that she let him. It was nothing compared to holding her, kissing her, tasting her, but he knew he would have to work his way back to even attempting anything close. "I'll do it. I'll just need a ride after, but I'll do it. Just say the word. Ask me."

Her cheeks pinked a bit and her breathing went shallow, as if all the thoughts running through her head were exhausting her. "But it's not up to me," she protested. "It's up to you. If you leave, they might never take you back."

Seth tried to make his shrug casual. Just as it must have been wrenching for Becky to leave WWE when it had been her dream for so long, he felt a bit empty just at the possibility of giving it up. But then he looked at her and knew there were other ways to be fulfilled. "I know who I need," he said simply, "and it's not them. Ask me."

Becky huffed in exasperation, but a smile was pulling at her lips. "Will you come with me?"

"Do you want me to?" Seth leaned back a bit in case she took a swing at him. He hadn't earned the right to tease her yet. It was going to be hard, starting over again, but having heard her laugh and kissed her and felt her body pressed against every inch of his, he knew it was worth it. "Yes," he answered quickly, hopping to his feet. "Let's get back to Charlotte's room before the repair crew comes. I already have enough people mad at me today."


	13. Chapter 13

Things come in threes. Hunter had heard it often enough, but he hadn't paid much attention to see if the saying had any truth to it. He was normally too busy managing disasters to see if they came tidily arranged. The day had started off with a fairly standard problem: an official resignation on his desk. It wasn't from a wrestler, though, only one of the announce team, so it wasn't a huge loss. Someone could spin a banal line about future endeavours and the fans would forget about the whole thing in a couple weeks.

It was the early morning phone call that made him realize something larger was at play. Ric had been in the hospital for weeks now, and Hunter had heard the nursing staff whisper about palliative care often enough to know that his seemingly immortal mentor wasn't likely to turn things around this time. He normally called for updates as soon as he arrived at the office, but when the hospital called him instead, he feared the worst. "What's wrong?" he barked into the phone as he answered. "I can be there in twenty minutes."

"Nothing's . . . wrong, sir." The nurse on the other end of the line sounded both terrified and annoyed. "I was calling to let you know that Mr. Flair is actually doing a bit better today. We didn't have to clear much liquid from his lungs this morning. That late-night visitor must have really worked wonders for his spirits."

Hunter stopped abruptly, waving a curt apology to the intern behind him as he ducked into a conference room doorway. "Late-night visitor?" he echoed. "Who? I hired a security detail for his room. All visitors are supposed to be registered and vetted. I wasn't told—"

"I'm sorry, sir. I wasn't on shift last night," the nurse continued, "so I don't know how things happened exactly. My colleague seemed to think it was his daughter, but I'm not sure. There weren't any unusual names at the sign-in desk."

Hunter knew Ric's children almost as well as he knew his own. Two daughters, two sons, though one son had passed away. Megan had been visiting her father faithfully, so a late-night appearance from her wouldn't be enough to turn the tide. It had to be Charlotte. "Is there any security footage? From the parking lot or the halls or—"

"Sir." The nurse's voice went steely. "Unless you have reason to believe a criminal act took place, that footage is confidential. I simply wanted to inform you that Mr. Flair was doing better today. It's rare to see improvements at this stage, so this is very good news."

"Sorry. It's been a hectic morning. You're right. I'll be in to see him before lunch. Thank you for keeping me updated." After Hunter disconnected, he took a deep breath and continued down the hallway, swearing softly when he spotted Randy heading towards him. "Not the time, Orton. I have paperwork to wade through and it sounds like Charlotte might have visited Ric overnight, so I need to get to the hospital."

Randy pivoted with ease and kept pace with Hunter as he stalked through the hallway. "Your boy isn't answering me. I tried texting and calling for updates and—"

"I told you I don't have the time, Orton. It's a simple op. If you can't handle it, let me know and I'll assign it to someone else. Dolph Ziggler's been chomping at the bit for a while. I'm sure he'd love a chance to prove himself." Hunter took a hard left, hoping Randy would need a moment to redirect, but no such luck.

"I'm handling it!" Randy snapped. "I know Seth made contact with Becky. I asked our sources and they confirmed it. But I sent him a shit-ton of texts days ago and then called to follow up, and he hasn't replied. I looped you in, remember? What else am I supposed to do? Go after him?"

Hunter stared at him incredulously. "Yes. That's exactly what you're supposed to do. That's what you do when you're running point. Succeed or fail, it's ultimately on you." He pinched the bridge of his nose and swore. "Come on. I need some air. I'll take my bike to the hospital. You can take one of the spares to go find Seth. They're only a couple hours away, right?" While The Authority prided itself on its custom bikes, they kept several factory-issue ones on site to prevent too much wear and tear to their precious rides.

Randy was clearly not impressed with Hunter's lack of sympathy, but he followed anyway, some of the tension in his shoulders easing as soon as they entered the large garage. This was Authority-only space: private, sacred, secure.

And splattered in a drunken rainbow of paint.

"What. The. Hell." Somehow it was always worse when Hunter _didn't_ yell; the quiet menace or low rumble of anger was more foreboding. "_What the hell?_" he repeated, stalking around the large space. "Randy, call security!" 

It was a moot point. The damage was done, and there was little doubt as to who was responsible. Better than leaving a calling card, they had put up a picture—specifically the picture Hunter had of them in his office as a way to illustrate Seth's mission. The picture of the Four Horsewomen was pretty much the only thing in the space that wasn't dripping with paint. Most of the machinery and tool boxes were splashed with mundane white. The creativity came into play with the bikes.

Hunter's bike was splattered with an obnoxiously cheery yellow. Stephanie's oozed neon purple. Peacock blue coated Ric's from the handlebars to the tire treads. Vivid orange engulfed Randy's like liquid flames. Those colours and a dozen more were splashed everywhere. Well, almost everywhere. As Hunter walked around, grimly surveying the damage, he found two other things that had emerged unscathed from the paint pandemonium: Seth's factory-issue bike and his custom Authority bike, both gleaming and pristine. A white envelope was propped open on the Authority bike and Hunter fought the urge to crumple it in his fist. 

Inside was a generic piece of blank paper, four words darkening its centre: _Thanks for the ride._

While he waited for the security guards to arrive, Hunter seethed and swore—and started to plot. Randy might have been overseeing the operation, but that didn't mean Hunter had been completely hands off. The only person he trusted in the whole company was Stephanie, and they had both been making moves of their own. Frustration reared Hunter's leg back and kicked Seth's factory-issue bike so it fell in a pool of orange paint; the Authority one tumbled into a mixture of orange and blue. 

Paint of all colours had sloshed over Hunter's shoes and splattered his suit, but he still must have been a vision to dread because the security guards kept their distance when they arrived. "I want video footage, key logs, fingerprints, EVERYTHING. And if one word of this gets leaked—_one fucking word_—you'll all be fired. Understood?"

The security team nodded nervously, glancing at each other as they tried to decide where to start. Hunter kicked Seth's Authority one last time, wishing he had left it standing—so he could drive it into the bastard's house and let it burn.


	14. Chapter 14

_Wish I could have been there._ Seth sent that brief message along with a video from a burner phone he'd left behind in the Authority's garage. The security team would find it soon enough, but Seth had worn gloves and there was no way to trace the phone to him; as soon as anyone tried typing in a pass code, the whole phone would be wiped clean.

It was the most relaxing walk he'd had in a while, even as he was ditching crucial evidence in garbage cans here and there. His Authority access card had already been cut into tiny pieces and was being scattered around so no enterprising WWE investigator would find it. He did the same with his paint-stiffened clothes, tearing them up as best he could beforehand. There were plenty of businesses in the area, so there was a bounty of dumpsters; all he had to do was avoid security cameras.

Roman, unsurprisingly, was the first to reply to the group text. _Don't burn anything. They'll be able to test for chemicals._ He threatened Seth so often that it was starting to almost feel like a gesture of affection.

Dean's reply was typically Dean. _Needs more pink. Not pretentious enough._ Seth imagined he was a tough nut to crack, but once he decided you were worthy of being a friend, good luck getting rid of him.

A smiley face preceded Bayley's answer. _It's never looked better!_ Any bitterness she might have held over her dossier was gone. She had pulled him aside earlier and said that her main concern in the whole situation was Becky's happiness; if Seth could make her happy and didn't hurt her again, Bayley would keep the past in the past. It was an olive branch he hoped to prove he deserved.

Charlotte didn't reply, and Seth didn't really expect her to. There was more strain between him and her than he had with any of the others, a mixture of guilt and resentment and more than a tinge of jealousy. She felt bad that her best friend had been used in an attempt to get to her, but she was also having problems coming to terms with Becky's refusal to condemn Seth outright. Seth figured she just didn't like having competition for Becky's affection. Beyond that, her father was at the centre of it all, and while she claimed to be good with her late-night goodbye, Seth had the feeling she would have regrets later.

It was Becky's reply that he was most anxious to read, checking his phone every few steps in case he missed the notification. At Roman's insistence, he was using an almost child-proof phone with limited functionality, only able to contact numbers approved by the administrator—Roman, of course. The restrictions rankled, of course, but Seth knew he had a lot to prove, and not just to Becky. In its own way, it was like his early days in The Authority, struggling to show his dedication. This time, though, it would be worth it, because at the end he would be equal; in The Authority, he could only ever ascend as high as Hunter and Stephanie would let him.

A sharp ting made him look at the phone. _Shame about your bikes._ Becky followed it up with a sad face.

_I'll make do. Know anyone who can give me a ride in the meantime?_ The innuendo was a risk and he knew it, especially if Roman happened to be within eyeshot, but the thrill of infiltrating the Authority's sanctuary and ruining it had left him giddy.

_Nice try._ There was a wink after it, though, and Seth knew there was hope. The other day, after he had detailed his plans to the others, Becky had pulled him aside to talk and almost instinctively went to wrap an arm around him. When she went to pull back, he had whispered that it was okay and, after looking to see that the others weren't watching, Becky gave him a light but lingering kiss that buoyed his spirits for the rest of the day.

_Meet us here,_ Roman's incoming message said, followed by a map detailing an office complex two blocks away. 

After sending a reply, Seth set off at a jog. WWE security was probably still busy inside, but that didn't mean he wanted to hang around. As soon as he rounded the last corner, his brain struggled to do the math. _Five people, six bikes?_ He immediately started looking for Sasha.

Roman laughed at his confusion. "I know you have another bike, but since Hunter's going to be coming down on your ass pretty hard, it's probably not safe for you to head home for a while. So you can borrow one of mine." He stepped aside to show Seth the bike in question. It definitely wasn't as fancy as Roman's current model, but it was still beautiful.

"We're going to swing by and meet up with Sasha," Bayley explained, spinning her helmet between her hands, "and then we're going to an event."

"Need to find some that the McMahons don't have their fingers in," Dean muttered.

"And ones that will let me set up my podcast equipment." The new voice caught Seth by surprise and when he peered around Dean, he saw Renee sitting on his bike. "While you were making mischief," she added, "I took the opportunity to drop off my resignation. I looked at my contract and it turns out that ninety-day clause only applies to 'talent'. Since I was an announcer and interviewer, my wings are free." When she pumped her hands in the air happily, there was no missing the tell-tale glint on her left hand.

_Dean must have proposed earlier this week,_ Seth thought, glancing over to where Becky and Charlotte stood. Ever since Charlotte had decided to fulfill her father's wish to a certain degree, she and Becky had been staying close.

Roman pressed keys into Seth's hand. "The ninety-day clause does apply to you, but fuck it. You're in trouble anyway, right?" he grinned. "I got you a match at the next event." The grin widened into something truly terrifying. "Against me, of course. I told Dean I got first dibs on beating the shit out of you."

Dean raised his hand. "I got seconds." Then he jerked a thumb at Becky. "Irish has perma-dibs."

As everyone started to put their helmets on and get ready to hit the road, Becky made her way over to Seth. "Did it feel good?"

Seth nodded. "It did. There are things I've enjoyed more," he said with a small smile, "but I'm glad I did it. I don't want to see another paint can for a while, though."

Becky gave him a lingering shoulder bump, earning her a raised eyebrow from Roman. "Don't mess with his bike. I won't be able to stop him again."

"Lynch!" Roman yelled, voice deep with mock consternation. "On your bike!"

"Okay, _Dad_." Shooting Seth a quick smile, Becky pulled her helmet on and went over to her bike.

Soon the air was shredded by the rumble of six motorcycles, their riders all eager to hit the road. "Everyone good?" Roman bellowed. When they all revved in response, he started the procession into traffic. Seth waited his turn, watching the others in front of him with a strange fondness. Would there be a place for him in The Shield one day? Would the rest of the Four Horsewomen ever really forgive him for what he had done to their sister? There was only one way to find out: he had to ride it out, bumps and all.


End file.
